


Utopia

by zsoo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Future, Assassin Zayn, Assassins & Hitmen, Boxer Liam, Crimes & Criminals, Drug Use, Flashbacks, M/M, Murder, Mutant Powers, POV Third Person, Politics, Revenge, Sexual Content, Violence, fucked up future, i'm adding as i go along, it's earth but it's not earth you know what i mean??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4426874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsoo/pseuds/zsoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn Malik has always lived a closed off, privileged life. His father was a scientist and his mother was a politician, both high authorities in the government. Zayn was not like other children, and after the assassination of his family, he runs away, missing from the public. Determined to find his parents' murderers, Zayn stays in the shadows for all his life, growing more dangerous as he ages, and getting closer to his answer. His life was solely based on finding the killers. Then he meets Liam Payne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello yall, this is my first fanfic!!! I hope you guys enjoy it and if you did please spread it around :)

It was midnight, the light drizzle and city lights were dulling the moon's shine. Zayn stood on the roof of a building, peering down at the men below him who were shaking hands and saying the last of their goodbyes. Among the men was Phillip DeMauge, Zayn's target. He watched DeMauge open his passenger door and slip inside, the car immediately breaking the silence of the street. The other men of the group split off to their own cars. 

DeMauge's ride pulled out to the street and Zayn started to run to the edge of the roof, only to jump with ease to the next one. They needed to talk.

***  
Yaser Malik was a powerful researcher and scientist for the government of Rulowe—a powerful country that was dangerous because of him. He specialized in weaponry and security technology, and was quite intimidating to the people of power because of his reputation for mutating and genetic engineering. Yaser was rumored to be mad, which was exactly why he climbed so high up the governmental ladder. His “crazy” ideas were what made Rulowe so powerful, a bully to countries who can’t keep up. 

It wasn’t a surprise that Yaser and Trisha Brannan would end up meeting, but it was quite a shock when they became a couple, soon to be married and in the future: bare a child. Trisha Brannan was the ambassador for Rulowe, however she came from a small country called Berkine, north of Yaser’s country. Trisha and Yaser were considered opposite—Trisha would push for peace while Yaser was one who was always ready to try out his creations. She was a woman who hated war, while he was one who found it a bit exciting. 

They were a force to be reckoned with—feared because of their powers. And later because of their son. 

***

Zayn leaned forward, his elbows pressed against his knees and his fingers entwined with each other. Phillip DeMauge sat before him, beads of sweat glittering his hairline, mouth covered with tape Zayn conveniently found. 

They sat in DeMauge’s penthouse in the middle of Utopia, the top floor of one of the richer suites. Despite it being late at night, the city outside was still bustling, yet the noise was drowned out by high up they were. The living room was lit up with a lamp in the corner and the wall-to-wall aquarium behind Zayn, giving DeMauge a blue tint. 

“I’m not here to kill you,” Zayn began and DeMauge visibly swallowed. “If you want to live, you need to stay in your seat and not scream when I remove the tape. Or else—” Zayn lifted the silenced pistol next to him and pointed it at DeMauge’s forehead, “you can kiss your life goodbye.” Zayn set the pistol back down. “We clear?”

DeMauge nodded his head frantically, some drops of sweat whisking away off his forehead. Zayn stood up from the couch and stepped closer to the chair the man sat in. He lifted his hand toward the tape but first looked into DeMauge’s eyes, “We’re both men who like to get straight to business. I’m not here to fuck around. The only time you speak is when I ask you a question, yeah?”

DeMauge nodded again and like a bandage, Zayn ripped off the tape, leaving DeMauge to give out a silent scream. 

Zayn sat back down on the couch and kept his steady gaze on Phillip while DeMauge reluctantly met his eyes. 

“I s’pose I should just cut right to the point, hm?” Zayn smirked and leaned back, getting comfy on the overly priced couch. “You remember the assassination of Trisha and Yaser Malik, correct?”

DeMauge swallowed heavily before straightening his posture, trying to put on a brave face. “Yes…Such a tragedy Rulowe faced. A tragedy we all faced.”

“Happened eight years ago and still no one knows who was behind the act.” 

“W-well, Rulowe was under terrorist attacks during the time, it was confirmed it were snipers from such…group.” DeMauge replied, his voice wavering. 

“No one found out who that terrorist group was. The whole fucking planet was on the case and there wasn’t one damn clue that linked to the answer.” Zayn laughed humorlessly. “Makes you think that maybe the group was right. Under. Our noses.” 

DeMauge clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, but didn’t speak. Zayn continued, “You’re an important man, Mr. Phillip DeMauge. Lawyer, governor, senator. Man of the Council. You were a witness to the assassination, correct?”

“I was.” He answered hesitantly.

“You knew the Maliks were a hated couple because of how dangerous they were.” DeMauge shifted in his seat, not answering. “Am I correct?”

“The public loved them,” DeMauge reluctantly replied. “Well, at least Trisha. Yaser wasn’t one who showed his face a lot. The inside did not feel the same.”

“Why?” Zayn simply asked.

“They were both kind people. Yaser certainly wasn’t crazy like people painted him to be. They were just becoming powerful. Too powerful.”

“Why?” He asked again.

“They had a son.”

***

Zain Malik (later to be changed to Zayn) was an accident. A happy one. Trisha and Yaser didn’t plan on having children. Their jobs were too demanding, and they feared their child would grow up neglected by them. However when the test came back positive, the couple was ecstatic. A child of their very own…It felt surreal.   
Zain was never alone; nannies and maids waited on him at every turn and security was always one step behind him—literally. The constant comfort was…comforting—but suffocating. He was not allowed to leave the house. During his last years with his family, war had struck out between Rulowe and a nearby country. Although the powerful country was able to keep their enemies at bay, Trisha and Yaser feared for their son’s life, and kept him closed off from the world. 

From home, he was taught by the best teachers in the country. Being locked up for a portion of his life made Zain exceedingly smart for a boy of his age. He was nine when he was stuck in the confines of his home, and he was twelve when he left for good. 

Trisha was determined to keep her son away from the ugly side of politics while Yaser made it basically impossible for Zain to access his laboratory. His lab was on the family’s property, but sectioned away from the house and placed underground. Zain’s life of him being home 24/7 allowed him to discover the hidden places of his home, including his father’s lab.

Zain learned how to be quiet at a young age. He knew how to draw attention away from himself. He knew how to disappear. He used his size to his advantage, as well as his knowledge. It wasn’t long before the young boy found vents to climb through and locks to pick. He knew where cameras were located and where guards were posted. He knew the home like the back of his hand. His parents never thought that to happen so soon.

It was his tenth birthday when the incident occurred. His mother video-chatted him and his father spent a few hours out of the lab for a father-son dinner. Zain wished for super powers when he blew out his ten candles on his superhero themed rainbow cake. At the time, Zain found it to be the most fascinating thing. “He has a mature mind, but he’ still a child at heart.” one of his nannies once said. 

“Zain,” Yaser said, “happy birthday.” With that his father pulled out a gold coin, larger than the average and even a little heavier. Zain asked what it was and Yaser told him to flip it like an average coin.

Zain flicked the coin into the air; as it flipped, it transformed into something Zain has always wanted—“A skateboard?” Zain gasped as he caught it, observing the ride with awe. It was made of metal, but weighed extremely lighter than the coin form it was in. The top was a polished black and the bottom was a plain gold. “Can I, like, put stickers on it and stuff?” Zain asked and Yaser said yes. 

Zain placed the board on the ground; it was a little too big for him, but Zain kicked off and rolled across the room like a natural. “I can use this when I’m older—by then I’ll be grown up and the board won’t be so big on my feet. Zain rolled back and picked up the gift. “How do you get it back to the coin form?”

Yaser leveled the board in Zain’s hands and pointed to the button on the top of the board; it was unnoticeable, the button blending in with the black. “Press that.”

Zain did so, and the skateboard retracted back to it’s original form and dropped at Zain’s feet. “Dad…” Zain picked up the coin and shoved it into his pocket, “This is the best present ever!” He tackled his dad into a bear hug. “Thank you so much,” He muttered into Yaser’s shoulder. 

After practicing on the skateboard for a little while longer, Yaser sent him to bed. “Wear a helmet with that!” He called out and Zain waved off as one of his nannies led him back to his room. 

Zain couldn’t sleep. It was 9 o’clock and he was laying in bed, staring at the glow in the dark stars stuck to his ceiling. He promised himself that he’d do it. He wanted to give himself his own gift; he wanted to find his father’s laboratory. 

He learned that his father worked on the family plot, somewhere underground and far away from the house. He was so close, yet so far. But after years of crawling around, Zain had a good guess where the tunnel was.

Zain had always pushed himself to be better. His role models were the heroes he read in comics and watched on TV; he wanted to be like them. He helped in anyway he could with the maids and treated everyone with respect. Zain was determined to do the extraordinary, even if that meant punching a hole in the wall (which he almost did) and find places in his home he wasn't supposed to find. Zain wasn’t like children his age—he was cunning, quiet, and strong. 

Zain threw his covers off and hopped out of bed, careful to keep his footsteps as quiet as they could be. There wasn’t anyone around, but Zain knew there was a guard outside his door and he didn’t want to make any unnecessary noise. He grabbed his coin from the dresser and stuffed it into his pajama’s pockets—just in case he needed it. He ducked down and grabbed a can of silly string he saved today from under his bed. His nannies woke him up by spraying him with the stuff and he snagged an extra can before they noticed. Zain pocketed the string and walked to his bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

The light flickered on, revealing the oversized bathroom. The vent was above him, all he needed was to get up there. Being a small child for his age, there was a miniature step ladder in the corner of the bathroom he used to reach the sink or one of the towel cabinets. He dragged it out and set it down carefully before climbing up to the top and putting all his concentration into balancing. When his balance was achieved, Zain took out his coin and began working on unscrewing the knobs of the vent; he unscrewed two and placed the coin back into his pocket and climbed up. 

The ten year old crawled blindly through the vents, going as slow as he possibly could out of fear that he’d wake up whoever was below him. Soon enough, Zain saw the opening he was looking for and repeated the process of opening the vent into his father’s study. Zain crawled out onto the top of a bookshelf, closed the vent back up and shimmied to the ladder at the end. When he reached the ground, Zain pulled out the silly string. He was in the study’s camera’s blind spot, directly underneath. Zain had been caught before—exploring was a trial and error. It took him many tries and time-outs before he was able to find the button and avoid the camera for as long as he could. 

He had to move fast; someone was always watching the cameras’ monitors and it wouldn’t take long for them to realize someone was here. He took a deep breath, the can gripped in his hands like his life depended on it. Spray the camera, press the button, run. Easy. 

Zain jumped out from his spot and immediately sprayed the camera with the string. When he covered it as much as he could, he sprinted to one of the bookshelves and pressed the button on the book’s spine. The doorway was revealed in a fake bookshelf next to him and Zain didn’t have time to hesitate as an alarm blared throughout the entire house. 

The tunnel was dimly lit with an occasional fluorescent light and moments after sprinting down the entrance he heard the doorway close, blocking out the alarm and the light from the study. The path before him looked never ending, but he trekked on. 

Half hour later, Zain saw a light. He pushed off even harder on his board, coasting along the metal tunnel to where he hoped the lab was. 

The light was the final lightbulb of the tunnel shining over a door with a password security lock next to the handle. Four digits. 

1201  
Zain entered in the code, his birthday, but was declined. 

0911  
The day his parents were married. That has to be it. Zain entered it in, but was declined again.

Zain stared at the lock, thinking off all the dates that he thought were significant to his father. He didn’t know what would happen if he got it wrong the third time, and he didn’t want to find out. 

2403  
The day Yaser became the head researcher for Rulowe. The lock beeped, and there was a shift in the door before it finally started to open. Light came pouring through, illuminating the dark tunnel. Zain stood there, waiting for his father or an associate or anyone to come running out to see who opened up the lab. But no one showed up. Zain raised his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the seemingly blinding light as he walked through. When his eyes were well adjusted, he lowered his hand and gazed at the sight before him.

***

“You know something, you fuck.” Zayn hissed

“We all know something.” DeMauge replied sarcastically. Zayn grabbed the pistol next to him and leaned towards the man. not breaking any eye contact and he shot the lamp in the corner out; the only illumination now was from the aquarium, giving DeMauge a pale blue glow. 

“You were there when the Maliks were killed. You know that assassination was an inside job.” DeMauge didn’t answer, so Zayn pointed the gun to his crotch. “Answer.”

“Yes! Yes, you’re right. But I don’t know fucking shit!” DeMauge cried out. “Fuck, I had a gun to my damn head by the same group when I got too close, alright? I haven’t spoken about it since. They’re everywhere, kid. Even years after that assassination they’re still around. Save yourself or they’ll have your head too.” DeMauge admitted, tears lining his eyes. 

“Who knows shit?” Zayn pressed the gun closer to Phillip’s crotch. 

DeMauge sighed out, “You know the underground fight club at the Clam?” Zayn nodded and he continued. “Talk to the head of that, Marcus. Tell him I sent you and he’ll tell you what he knows.”

“Are you telling the truth, or are you leading me into a death trap?”

“Kid, no matter where you go, it’ll be a death trap. They will find you.” 

Zayn stood up, “Thanks, old man.” And with that he slammed the but of his gun into DeMauge’s temple, knocking him unconscious. 

***

The room was insanely white, from floor to ceiling were perfect, clean white walls. The floors were spotless as well, it didn’t even look like anyone used this room before. Computers and desks were everywhere; in one corner was a row of desktops and in another were machine parts and different tools. In center was a rack of chemicals along with cylinders and Bunsen burners and other objects of chemistry. Huge tubes lining the far end of the wall were filled with a blue liquid, nothing in them but carbonated bubbles. Maps, data tables, newspaper clippings, articles, and screens of different information covered the walls. The lab itself smelled of chemicals, copper, and the faint smell of hospital. Zain stood there, board still tucked under his arm and hands shoved in his pockets, taking it all in, waiting for his father to just magically appear. 

“Dad?” Zain dared to call out but there was no reply, just the sound of monitors beeping. He walked towards the chemicals in the center of room, interested to look more closely at the bright colors contained in the tubes. 

“Woah…” Zain whispered peering into them. He retracted his board and picked up one of the tubes, a bright green, to get a closer look. He turned it around when he saw tape blocking the other side. Super was written in his father’s handwriting on the strip and Zain widened his eyes. Super…Superhero? Can I drink it? All of the sudden Zain heard yelling from behind him, in the tunnel. Did they catch up already? 

Zain glanced back down at the chemical and then back at the doorway. He uncapped the tube. Looked back up. Looked back down. It didn’t smell like anything. Zain was smarter than this, but the compelling urge to drink a chemical was becoming overbearing. He’s always wanted superpowers, to be a superhero. Maybe his wish will finally come true. 

Zain took one final look towards the door and pressed his lips towards the edge of the tube. Drink it and you’ll be like the heroes in your comics! Zain closed his eyes and sipped down the chemical. 

The tube fell from his hand, everything blurry and on fire. He fell to his knees and screamed out in pain, tears pouring from his shut eyes. What have I done? His whole body felt like it was on fire, like a thousands knives were in him, like he was being electrocuted. More screaming. Am I going to die? He couldn’t even feel the floor he was kneeling on, he couldn’t hear anything. Deafly screaming from the pain going through his tiny body. It felt like winds were bellowing throughout the room, like a tornado appeared out of nowhere. Everything was shaking, the room was falling apart. The yelling from whoever was in the tunnels was faint, but Zain couldn’t hear anything over his screams and the wind blowing through his ears. 

It was then that Zain Malik’s life changed forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! This was just the introduction chapter, you'll learn more about Zayn next chapter along with introducing Liam. I'm only here to improve, so if you have any constructive criticism PLEASE let me know


	2. Chapter 1

“Let’s get ready to ruuuuuuuumble!”

Screaming. Cheering. It was something Liam has been used to for what felt like forever. He jogged in place, head facing down at his feet, trying to tune out so he could focus. 

“Then let’s bring out our men of the night!” The announcer boomed in the arena, and the cheering increased. “On the left side, we have the skull crushing, bone chewing, tank among men: the mighty, the damned, Bone Saw!” 

Liam took a deep breath and dared to glance up at the man he was here to fight. He was big, bigger than Liam. His gigantic frame took over the big screen plastered on the wall in the center of the arena. In legal fighting, Liam would never fight this man (if he even was one). He was too big, way out of his weight class. But this was underground. There were no rules of the sort. 

“And on the right side…The underdog, the undefeated, the certainly brave: Liam motherfucking Payne Train!” The announcer yelled out, dragging out the a and Liam walked out from his side of the arena. 

Liam kept his head raised, ignoring the yelling as best as he could, whether it was trash talk or support. Liam flexed his fingers, loosening the tape covering his hands. His shorts rode up to his mid-thigh as he ducked into the ring. He rolled his neck and stared at his match on the other end of the ring. 

Bone Saw was…scary. A scar was traced from his mouth to his temple and he seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face. He was only a few inches taller than Liam, but a hell of a lot bigger. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Liam was crushed by the guy’s thumb only, but the threat of his life on the line only pumped Liam up even more. 

That was always Liam’s knick—his life being in danger made Liam stronger. He was never scared of who he had to face and he refused to give up. It’s happened more than once where Liam was half-dead but still fighting. Maybe he was just stubborn or maybe he was so egotistical that the idea of him giving up and losing was more humiliating than dying. Maybe he just thought this was all fun and games. Or maybe he just loved the risk. 

Liam flexed his fingers once again, pacing in place and controlling his breathing as best as he could. He was ready.

The ref walked in the middle of the ring and signaled the two fighters over. “Ten second tap out. Match over when there’s a KO. If someone dies…” the ref glanced at Liam, “match is over. Forfeit—match over. No breaks unless absolutely necessary. Give these people their moneys worth, yeah? Now shake.” 

Liam moved his gaze to Bone Saw and brought his hand up for a shake. He didn’t break his stare and Bone Saw returned the favor, squeezing his hand a little too hard for comfort. 

“…And it looks like it’s time to fight! Place your bets now people! This fight’s gonna get interesting.” The commenter amped up the crowd. The spotlights shown even brighter in Liam’s eyes and the thick atmosphere surrounded him. He was ready. 

Zayn walked into the bar, it wasn’t insanely busy tonight, but he figured there was a fight going on. The bartender gave him a look, realizing who he was. Zayn walked by to the private room at the end of the building and closed the door behind him. He’s been down to the underground ring a few times to watch, throw some cash,  
even participate himself. The room itself was an elevator, and on the “menu” placed on the table center of it was a button leading to the basement where the fighting was. 

The room shifted down and seconds later the elevator opened to loud cheering and an extremely excited commentator. “Holy shit, Payne took a hit straight to the jaw! How is this kid still fighting?!” 

Zayn stepped out and walked towards a bouncer stationed in front of the stairs leading to the seats behind him. “I’m here to see Marcus.” Zayn yelled in the bouncer’s ear when he approached. 

“What for?” 

“Phillip DeMauge sent me.” Zayn drew back and the bouncer stared down at him, assessing the situation. 

“Follow me,” he finally said and led Zayn down the walkway to a door guarded by another bouncer. The first guard whispered to the other before giving Zayn a pat down. “You’ll get this,” the bouncer raised Zayn’s pistol. “when you’re done.”

After that, the door was opened to a lobby with a few chairs and a coffee stand. On the left wall was a giant window that showed the arena. “After this fight, you can talk to the boss.” And with that, the door was shut, leaving Zayn in wait.

Liam skidded back, breathless, arms raised and legs tensed to stop himself from flying out of the ring. “Punch straight to the chest! That’s gonna leave a mark ladies and gentlemen.” He was winded, no doubt a rib was cracked after that. Bone Saw didn’t even give Liam a chance to adjust, sending a fist straight to his cheek. The yelling increased and Liam almost blacked out from that. 

“Damn, kid. You sure know how to take a punch,” Bone took the time to take out his mouth guard and laugh. “You’re way more entertaining than the shrimp I had to fight to get to this round.”

Liam straightened himself back up and raised his fists, jogging in place once again. “Don’t know how he’s doing it, people, but Payne Train is still going! Looks like everyone betting on Bone has a run for their money!”

Stay focused. Don’t let him get another punch in. Liam shook his head and stared up at his match. He could feel blood dripping from his nose and lip, and a bruise forming in too many places on his face. 

Bone Saw went in for another punch, cutting straight for Liam’s stomach. Like a flash, Liam grabbed Saw’s wrist, his grip circling as much as he could. Wrist still in hand, Liam countered with a punch straight to Saw’s chest. Clearly winded by the strength of Liam’s hit, Saw stumbled back, only to be held down by Liam’s grip still on his wrist. Liam threw in another punch to Saw’s stomach.

“Look at this people! Payne is coming in for the kill! I did not see this coming!”

“You…Fuck…” Saw wheezed out. Then Saw let out a pained scream as Liam’s grip tightened even more.

“Oh my god…Did Payne just break Bone Saw’s wrist?!” The cameras for the jumbo screen zoomed in on Payne’s hand wrapped around a clearly broken wrist, the hand bending in an unnatural position. “WHERE is this coming from?!”

Liam let go and immediately landed a kick straight for Saw’s knee, causing the competitor to stumble back and drop to the floor. Liam walked over to him, trying to hide his limp as best as he could. Saw stared up at Liam. “I…had you beat…” He said as best as he could through his mouth guard. “I was kicking…your fucking…ass…How…did you…fuck me up so fast…”

Liam wiped the drying blood from his lip and caught his breath before answering. “I’m just a good fighter, mate.” Before Bone Saw could even reply, Liam threw a fist to his temple, and Saw was knocked unconscious. 

“And we have a WINNER!” The commentator yelled and the arena was filled with extremely loud music and cheering. The ref grabbed Liam’s hand a raised it up. “WINNER, WINNER, WINNA!” 

Liam displayed a breathless smile, chest heaving and arms limp. “And with that folks, Payne Train is moving up into this tournament, still undefeated and still incredibly badass.” 

“Quite impressive, isn’t he?” Zayn snapped his head to the right to see a man walk over next to him, looking out of the window. Marcus. 

“Thought he was going to lose,” Zayn admitted, staring at Liam in the ring. 

“Lookin’ to fight again? I remember you from a few years back,” Marcus turned his head to Zayn, an eyebrow raised. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you and Payne have a go at it.”

“Maybe another day,” Zayn smirked. “I’m actually here to talk to you.”

“I have a lot of people here to talk to me kid,” Marcus scoffed. “I’ve been told Phillip sent you so…it must be important to some extent.” Marcus looked over Zayn before cocking his head to the door on the other end of the lobby. “To my office.”

Liam sat in the locker room, wincing at his bandaged ribs and bruised face. The other fighters were scattered around, some lifting weights or hitting the punching bag, and others keeping to themselves, waiting for their round to start. It was no surprise to the public that Liam was strong; he was in a tournament with the best of the best. However, no one expected Liam to break one of the biggest competitors’ wrist to the point that “Bone Saw” might not ever fight again. Not even Liam expected that. 

Liam Payne was a newbie to the underground fighting world; he started about a year ago. He was low on money, living in a rundown apartment that had three months of rent due and not enough time. Liam did whatever he could for money—hell, he almost went into the sex business before he heard about the Clam and the fighting. Every match you win, you get money. The tougher the competitors, the bigger the cash. It was a 24/7 event, earlier matches being the newer fighters and later matches were the professionals. 

Liam at first didn’t like fighting, but living on the streets for portions of his life gave him experience and he knew that the only way to not be homeless (again) was to sign up for underground fighting. He moved to the top very quickly, soon being in the big leagues after only three months of being in the ring. His name moved around, and the people decided to give him the title Payne Train, which stuck to pretty much everyone who knew about this other world. 

“You got another match later tonight, so you’ll get your check then.” Liam looked up at one of the bouncers, Rob, he thought his name was.

Liam pointed to the bandages around his chest, “Does it look like I’m fit to fight? Saw cracked my fucking ribs.”

“Talk to Marcus if you have a problem,” Rob deadpanned and walked off. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Liam hissed and stood up from the bench. He threw on a plain shirt and walked out of the locker room. 

“I’m not here to play games, Marcus,” Zayn scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m here for answers.”

“And you’ll get your answers,” Marcus leaned back in his chair and threw his arms over his head. “After you fight in a match.”

“Why?” Zayn hissed, “You saw me fight before. I’m done.”

“Kid, I don’t even know your fucking name, and you expect me to tell you some covered up government shit?” Marcus scoffed and pressed his hands to his desk. “No way.”

“So, what, you want me to fight for your trust?” Zayn leaned forward, elbows on the desk and eye to eye with the sweaty boss. 

“I want to know that the information I give out is to someone who knows how to survive.” Marcus explained. “Once I say anything, they will be on your ass. Hell—they’ll be on my ass.”

“You know I can fi—”

 “Kid, you were here when you were sixteen. It’s been five years. We have new fighters, stronger ones. Ones that could’ve kicked your sixteen year old self’s ass,” Marcus raised his voice. “There’s no point in rushing something you’ve been looking for that’s been dead for years.”

Zayn clenched his jaw but leaned back. “Fine. Who am I fighting?”

Just then, the door busted open behind Zayn and Marcus gave a coy smile at him before pointing to whoever was behind him. “Him.”

Zayn looked over his shoulder to see Liam Payne Train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed--looks like we have a ziam fight coming up ;)  
> sorry if my chapters are a bit short, I'm just trying to update as fast as i can!! i'll try and make my prompts longer....i just love cliffhangers ya know


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so picture like that 1dday workout with zayn and liam. thats what they look like

”Marcus I—” Liam stopped when his eyes landed on his boss and someone sitting in the chair in front of him.

“Him.” Marcus pointed to Liam, a smug smile on his face, his gold tooth looking exceptionally shiny this evening. 

The man in the chair turned to face Liam, face emotionless as he scanned him up and down. Liam shifted under his gaze and brought his attention to Marcus. “Boss,” Liam began, “I can’t fight tonight.”

“And why’s that?” Marcus asked, fingers entwined, the smug smile still on his face.

“Bone Saw fucked up my rib,” Liam lifted the side of his shirt to show the bandages. “You know I usually compete with injuries but I’m not feeling confident that I can give it my all…and that kind of your policy.” All or nothing in Marcus’ world.

Marcus waved his hand and scoffed, “I’ll let you take a dip into my savings and get some Serum. You two are fighting tonight, no excuses.”

Liam raised a brow and pointed towards the nameless guest, “You’re saying I’m fighting him? I’ve never seen him before.”

“He’s a…surprise competitor. This won’t affect your position in the tournament, just a bit of a friendly match.” Marcus explained, eyes shifting between Liam and the guest. “Call me when you get to the hospital, Liam. I’ll give you my credit information so you can get some Serum and you’ll be good as new.”

Liam glanced at the man, “A-are you sure? Serum’s really expensive—”

“Never been more sure in my life!” Marcus smiled. “Go, by the time you come back we’ll begin.”

Liam nodded once and closed the door behind him, leaving Zayn and Marcus to themselves once again. 

“Why Liam?” Zayn asked coolly. 

“Simply put: Liam is our strongest fighter. He doesn’t look it—especially compared to men like Bone Saw—but he’s undefeated for a reason.” 

Zayn smirked and Marcus laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t get cocky, kid. Liam has strength—maybe even too much strength. He’s not someone to underestimate.”

“Looked like he was getting his ass beat with that Saw guy,” Zayn inquired. “then out of the blue he knocks the guy out.”

Marcus raised his hands, “Look, I have nothing to tell you about Liam’s strategies. All I know is that he’s tough and knows when and how and what to strike.”

Zayn pursed his lips. “Alright, got anything for me to sign?”

Marcus smiled and reached into the drawers of his desk, pulling out a single piece of paper. “Waver,” Marcus slid the piece and a pen over to the other side of the desk. “Make sure you know what you’re getting into. What’s your name? So I can give it to the boys in the booth.”

“Nyaz Kilam,” Zayn muttered while he signed his initials here, here and here.

“Alright, Knee-ass,” Marcus laughed. “When the tournaments over, it’ll be your turn to shine.” 

 

Liam sat diagonal of his opponent, chest fully healed now and waiting for the final fight of the night to finish. He kept his eyes forward, but would continually glance at his opponent who was now getting his hands wrapped on the bench right beside him. His arms and parts of his torso were covered in tattoos, a dark comparison to his fairly tan features. The piercings in his nose and ear he saw earlier were taken out. His hair was pushed up slightly and he had a light stubble coming in; he probably shaved a couple days ago. Liam couldn’t help but feel like…he knew him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they met before ever since he saw the guy in Marcus’ office. 

The assistant left, leaving Liam and him alone in the warmup room. 

“Heard you’re quite the fighter,” Liam snapped his head and saw the man’s hand out for a shake. “I’m Nyaz.”

“Liam,” Liam replied, shaking Nyaz’s hand. “Thank you. Quite an interesting name you’ve got.”

“I get that a lot,” Nyaz replied. He’s not from around here, Liam thought. Thick accent. 

“I’ve never seen you underground before,” Liam started. “How’d you come across this place?”

“Ah, I’ve been down here before,” Nyaz explained. “I used to fight when I was sixteen, but I quit. Now sometimes I just come down here to make some bets.”

“Seemed you weren’t here for just betting,” Liam pried, trying to keep as cool as possible.

Nyaz smirked and narrowed his eyes, “Seemed I wasn’t, Payne Train.” And with that the conversation was at a halt, but the last few minutes of silence ended when someone came into the room and told them it was their turn in the ring. When they walked out into the hall, they were escorted to the different tunnels. “Good luck, Payne!” Nyaz called out and disappeared behind the walls.

“Ladies. And. Gentlemen. Do NOT get out of your seats yet because it looks like we have a…SUUUPRISE MAAAATCH!” The crowd exploded, the tired atmosphere quickly replaced with the complete opposite feeling. 

Zayn stood in the tunnel, watching the corner of jumbo screen he could see go insane with graphics of fire and explosions. It felt weird being back in this tunnel, Zayn used to love the feeling—the anticipation of going into a fight. Now he couldn’t help but feel a little excited after what he’s been told about Liam. 

“Let’s get down to it, folks!” The announcer cut through the crowd. “On the right side, you saw him today…Crushing wrists and breaking necks, the brave, the bold, the beautiful, Paaaayne Train!” The crowd bursted into cheer as they watched the fighter walk out into the ring. His eyes were focused dead on whatever was in front of him. Completely different person in the ring it seems, Zayn thought as he watched Liam stare intensely at his feet. 

“On the left side, folks, we’re bringing back an old soul from the fighting world. You might remember him, you might not, but he’s back and ready to fight…Nyaz Kilam!” Zayn walked out, looking at the people in the stands around him. The cheering wasn’t as loud as Liam’s, but Zayn heard a few people saying they remembered him. “Kid may be small, but he packs a mean punch! Place your bets now, folks.”

I’m not that small, why does everything think I’m a fucking mouse. Zayn cursed in his head. A side assistant handed him a mouth guard as he climbed through the ring. He wasn’t planning on using it, but after hearing how serious Marcus talks about Liam, Zayn put the mouth guard in. 

The ref called them to the center, explaining the match rules before making them shake.

“I’m telling you people, the match might not seem big, but it’s fucking massive. Nyaz here won the Best of the Best Tournament at only sixteen, which is the tournament Payne’s in now. Both undefeated, both underestimated.”

With that, the ref blew his whistle and the crowd started to cheer as the match began. Zayn walked towards the center of the ring, hands behind his head and stared at Liam with a cool expression. “Nyaz might as well pull up a chair since he looks so comfortable!” 

Zayn stared at Liam, waiting for him to make the first move, but he was jogging in place instead. Probably waiting for me to charge in and show him my speed, Zayn smirked. I’ll show him. 

Like that Zayn warped behind Liam and punched the side of his head, sending Liam flying to the side of the ring. “Holy shit, did Nyaz just teleport?! How fast is this kid?!”

Liam slowly rose to his hands and knees, continually shaking his head so he wouldn’t black out from that punch. What the fuck just happened? Liam looked up at Nyaz, who was standing in the same spot with his hands behind his head, staring down at Liam. Liam stumbled upwards and quickly rubbed his head. “Unsurprisingly, Payne stands up! I don’t know how he did it, hell, that punch knocked me out!”

Okay, so, he’s really fast. Liam thought as he studied Nyaz. If I can keep up with his movement patterns, I’ll be able to—Liam flew across the ring again, getting a floor burn against his knees as he skidded to a stop. “Hold the phones people, Nyaz got another hit in! I didn’t even see the guy move!”

Liam swayed to his feet as he noticed Nyaz getting a bit irritated with Liam’s willpower. He moved from the spot Liam was once at towards him, taking out his mouthguard and putting his hands back behind his head. 

“That punch probably could’ve killed all the men you fought today,” Nyaz smirked. “I’m impressed. No wonder Marcus thinks you’re the best fighter.” Liam swung at Nyaz’s open stomach, but just as quick as his feet, he caught Liam’s hand. “I’m not going to kill you, Payne. I like you—I’m sure after this you’ll hate me, but I need to win this,” Nyaz’s grip tightened. 

Liam’s other hand was completely free, but it felt like a ton of bricks, like of all sudden he had no energy, no strength. What was happening?

Zayn lifted Liam up by the wrist and twisted around, slamming him into the floor. The throw wouldn’t break his back, but Zayn was confident the match would be over now. He stood back looking around the arena like there was something to find. The crowd was almost speechless and the commentator had no words. Zayn furrowed his brows and he scanned around the arena some more, facing away from Liam, wondering why everyone was so quiet. Zayn turned back to him, only to get a fist straight to his cheek.

Zayn stumbled back, completely caught off guard by what just happened. Zayn huffed out a laugh, rubbing his jaw and smiling. “Ow…That stung.” Zayn laughed once more and lifted the mouth guard to his mouth. “You’re gonna break my damn teeth with that fist, Payno.”

Nyaz rolled his neck and stretched his arms back while staring at Liam curiously. Liam himself was barely awake, but he wanted to keep going. Liam didn’t feel the pain, but he knew that his body was on its’ last wheels. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Liam felt Nyaz’s breath on his ear before falling down; his feet were kicked out from right underneath him. How is he so fast? 

“What is Payne Train doing?! Is he that defensive over his pride that he can’t take a loss? Has his ego reached a new peak? Is he so protective over his undefeated streak that he’d die in the ring before giving up?” The commentator yelled into the arena and Zayn watched Liam crawl back up. 

“I just…don’t like to lose this way,” Liam breathed out. Zayn looked down at Liam, hearing clearly what he said. A sense of empathy washed over him and Zayn looked up at the commentator’s booth and spat out his mouth guard. 

“He’s not some egotistical asshole,” Zayn yelled up at him. What am I doing? “who’s insecure about his pride! He just doesn’t like to give up easily. He…He doesn’t like to get pummeled without at least trying to defend himself!” Okay they get it, stop. “Let him fucking fight without you—or anyone—degrading him to a stupid fucking winning streak!” Relax, stop getting emotional over someone you met thirty minutes ago. Zayn stared up at the booth, chest heaving. That’s probably the loudest I’ve talked since…forever. 

Zayn looked over at Liam—now standing up—who had a subtle smile while catching his breath. Zayn felt a hand wrap around his wrist and his arm was lifted up by the ref. Like nothing even happened, the arena was filled with cheering and music. “Liam tapped out while you went off on Joey up there,” The ref muttered in Zayn’s ear. Zayn turned to look at Liam once again, but he was out of the ring walking down his tunnel with paramedics by his side. 

“That was the most inhuman strength I've ever seen,” One of the paramedics commented to Liam. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone on steroids that strong. Or at least that fast.”

“Nyaz basically teleported everywhere!” The other one added on, talking like Liam wasn’t even there. “In all my time working under here I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone that fast.”

“I wouldn’t mind him seeing him fight his sixteen year old self,” The first one laughed and led Liam into the medical room. “Payne I don’t know how you survived that long…First punch the head should’ve knocked you clean out. Like, coma knock out.” He said to Liam as he inspected the bump on Liam’s head. “Maybe you’re the one on steroids,” the paramedic joked and handed Liam a bag of ice.

Liam flinched as he pressed it against his head and shrugged at the paramedic. “Don’t worry about me, I’m completely clean.”

“Nah, I know you are, Payne. You’re just too tough for your own good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was this rushed? i feel like it was rushed. anyway, bit of ziam fighting (or zayn kicking liam's ass) and a look into how unreal zayn is. i think i'll stick to shorter chapters but frequent updates. thanks for reading!! :))


	4. Chapter 3

”They’re called the Nine,” Marcus said as Zayn entered the office. His hands were behind his back, overlooking the majority of the arena filing out after a long day of fighting—or more like _watching_ people fight. 

 Zayn closed the door behind him, “I’m sorry?”

“The terrorist group,” Marcus turned to face him. “They’re called the Nine.”

 “I’ve never heard of them,” Zayn commented. After a few years of being in the battle front, he’s never heard the name. He’s heard a lot of names.

 “They’re from the western waters. They’re this nomadic thief group. If they’re not robbing banks or pillaging small towns, they’re taking contracts.” Marcus shifted into his chair and stared at Zayn blankly. 

 “Why’re they called the Nine?”

 “There’s nine of them. Always nine. If one of them dies, they replace them,” Marcus rubbed his face and leaned his elbows onto the desk. “Look, Zayn, you’re already in a dangerous enough position.”

 Zayn sunk into the seat, “Guess the innuendo wasn’t that hard to crack.”

 “I’m not an idiot,” Marcus scoffed. “‘Nyaz Kilam?’ I thought you were a bit more creative than that.”

 “Sometimes the most obvious is the most hidden.” Zayn poorly defended. “I suppose that wasn’t the smartest option.”

 “You think? There’s been a bounty on your head ever since you disappeared. People leak underground fights all the time and I am 100% sure yours will blow up. Once the big heads realize who you are, the search begins again. Not only will the cops be on your ass, but so will the Nine. And anyone else who wants you.”

 “You not interested in getting your money’s worth?” Zayn raised a brow.

 “I already make enough money as it is,” Marcus shrugged. “Plus, I’m not a rat and I have no interest in turning you in. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

 “It’s cause I’m a Malik,” Zayn muttered, eyes down on the floor.

 “It’s cause you’re a _weapon_ ,” Marcus corrected. “Having one of the most dangerous creations just walking around the streets isn’t exactly ideal to the feds. Or anyone for that matter.”

 “I’m not…” Zayn clenched his jaw. “dangerous.”

 “Well, let’s see,” Marcus began. “You have inhuman capabilities, you were used as a military weapon at just ten years old, you…were the reason Rulowe was under extreme terrorist attacks, and you are the reason for your parents’ death.”

 Zayn didn’t bother to argue, he knew it was true. Marcus continued, “You may not seem dangerous to yourself, but to the public you are.”

 “What makes you think the Nine are still here?” Zayn changed the subject. “You said they’re from across the waters, I’d imagine they’ve gone home when they were done.”

 “It’s possible,” Marcus shrugged. “There’s a chance they’ve all gone home depending on how they roll. Or what their contract was.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “There’s a chance that whoever assigned the job to them only said to kill your parents. When they got that done, they booked out.”

 “So why should I be worried about them?” 

 “Because you’re _walking money,_ ” Marcus explained. “If you get captured and turned in, they’ll be swimming in wealth.” Marcus paused. “However…if you were part of the contract, they’ll come and kill you. Chances are whoever assigned it only gave them a certain amount of money for killing two of the three targets; you’re likely to be the most…expensive. So, they’ll come after you, finish the job, and get their cut.”

 “They get money either way,” Zayn figured. “Win-win.”

 “Exactly. There’s no getting out of it.”

 “Is there a chance you can stop the fight from leaking?” Zayn asked.

 “Do I look like I’m king of the Internet?” Marcus raised a brow but sighed and pulled out a sticky note when he studied Zayn’s face, probably seeing some desperation in his eyes. “I know guy who can help keep tabs on you.” He muttered and handed the note to Zayn. An address was on it. “He, uh, checks up on address leakages and such. He’s kept the cops off my ass for a while now, so I trust him.”

 Zayn nodded and stuffed the note in his hoodie pocket. He stood up, hand outstretched. “This helped a lot, man. Thank you.” 

 Marcus gave him a firm shake, clasping Zayn’s elbow with his free hand. “Take care of yourself, kid. Be careful out there.”

 “I’ll do my best,” Zayn smiled and walked out of the room, a possible final goodbye.

 

***

Zain threw a dart on the board, another part of his training to master precision and strategy. He sighed; from the counter he had another hundred points before getting to zero. He started the game at five hundred and it’s only been an hour of playing and he was insanely bored, especially since he had no one to _talk to_ in this box of training. 

 He glanced up at the audience window to the left of him, men and women of science and military staring down at him or talking. He threw a dart while keeping his eyes on them, trying to read their eyes or lips from down here. There wasn’t much else to look at anyway, the only thing in this room was him and the board and blinding white walls. Zain sighed again and turned back to the board to pick the dart from the cork. _Halfway done_.

 Minutes passed and Zain heard the door open to the right of him. “Why are they watching?” Zain asked his father, not even looking at Yaser when he stood next to him. 

 “Studying your potential.” He answered simply.

 Zain hit the bullseye, finishing the game and looked up at his father. “It’s darts.”

 “You’re doing a Scenario next.” Yaser replied. 

 “Why am I doing this? I don’t want to fight or go to war.” Zain muttered and walked to the darts board to reset the score board and put away the darts. 

 “Son,” Yaser sighed, repeating what he’s said dozens of times. “Rulowe is under attack, conditions are starting to get dangerous. We need this war to end.”

 “I don’t want to die,” Zain whimpered. The idea of him going out a fighting has bounced back and forth ever since the incident in the lab, and it was starting to become a reality. 

 “You won’t, Zain. I’ll make sure of that.” Yaser placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I swear on my life.”

 Zain looked up at his father and nodded, reassured of his father’s protection. He glanced at the window in the top of the room. The viewers were gone, probably heading towards the Scenario grounds. 

 “Let’s go,” Yaser led Zain out of the room and onto the next.

***

Zayn sighed out a breath of fresh smoke, cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. He was at the front of the Clam now, deciding to take a smoke break as a celebration for all he’s gotten done tonight. By now it was almost three in the morning and as much as he’d like to go to Marcus’ Internet tracker right now, he was too exhausted to do anything else. He took one last hit before stomping out the butt and pulled out his Coin. 

 As he flipped it up, he heard the door open behind him and turned his head while catching his board to see Liam step out. Thought he’d left by now, Zayn thought.

 Liam raised his brows slightly when he saw Zayn, but his off guard look was replaced by a small smile. “Hey, uh, I never got a chance to say thanks.”

 “Thanks? Oh, for that…thing,” Zayn rubbed the back of his neck when he thought about his outburst at the commentator. “No problem.”

 Liam huffed out an embarrassed laugh, “Not a lot of people stand up for me, you know? It’s appreciated.”

 Zayn nodded slowly and turned back, getting ready to take off to the next hotel. “You going that way?” Liam suddenly asked.

 Zayn looked over his shoulder and gave Liam a weird look, “Obviously.”

 “So, am I,” Liam walked to his side. “Mind if I join?”

 Zayn tucked his board under his arm and stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Uh…I guess so.” Zayn glanced at Liam as they started walking, a little suspicious. He wasn’t scared of Liam, he was just scared that Liam knew who he was and if he was money hungry. 

“You healed well,” Zayn noted, keeping his eyes forward. From what he’s noticed, Liam only had a small limp and a couple bruises on his face, but other than that he turned out pretty well. Guess Liam was tougher than Zayn thought. 

 “Yeah nothing major,” Liam shrugged. “No offense.” He smirked after that.

 “None taken,” Zayn raised a brow and looked at Liam for a second. “Everyone said you were tough.”

 “You weren’t expecting me to stand up though,” Liam pushed.

 “Nope,” Zayn huffed, a bit annoyed now. He didn’t even want to talk about the fight, what was Liam getting at?

 “You’re upset.” Liam observed. 

 “Not upset,” Zayn corrected. “Just tired. I’ve had a long day.”

 “That makes two of us,” Liam sighed. Liam kicked a pebble along the sidewalk and asked, “Are you looking to fight again? Under the Clam?”

 “No, just had some business with Marcus.” Zayn deadpanned, the tone in his voice making it clear he wasn’t saying anything about it.

 “Do you live around here?” Liam randomly asked.

 “You ask a lot of questions.”

 “Just trying to make conversation, Kilam.” Liam defended. “Sorry if I’m being intrusive.”

Zayn sighed, a little guilty of his rude behavior. “You’re not, mate. It’s my bad, I’m just being a dick right now.” He pulled out his carton of cigarettes and lighter from his pocket. “Want one?”

Liam shook his head, “No thanks. You can go ahead though.” Zayn pulled one out and lit up. 

“No, I don’t live around here. I’m gonna go check in to a hotel or something.” He answered Liam’s question.

Zayn blew out his smoke away from Liam, looking at the almost dead road. The Clam was center of Utopia, but for some reason this street was dead. He didn’t mind though, it was nice to have some peace and quiet after listening to drunk idiots scream.

 “What’re you in town for?” Liam asked.

 “Business.”

 “Hotels are so expensive here,” Liam stated.

 “Okay?” Zayn gave Liam a weird look. “I’ve got money.”

 “You can stay at my place for the night.” Liam blurted out.

 Zayn coughed out a bit of smoke and took the cigarette out from his mouth and dangled it from his fingers. “I beat your ass and have been rude to you this whole night and you’re offering me a place to stay for the night?”

 Liam nodded, a smile on his lips like he was holding back a laugh. _Cute_. “How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?”

 “Kilam, you already punched the daylights out of me when I wasn’t trying to kill you. I can only imagine what you’d do if I did.” Liam laughed. “Just trying to be nice.”

 Zayn rubbed his eye and yawned. “C’mon, my apartment is nearby.”

Zayn’s instincts were telling him to decline Liam’s offer and just spend a night in a hotel room, but another part of him were telling him to go with Liam. Zayn trusted his instincts the most—there was hotel across the street, the Hamilton. 

 “I think I—” Zayn was cut off by someone yelling.

“Hey! Are you Liam Payne?” The voice asked loudly and Zayn and Liam turned to two huge men with quite angry looks on their faces. _Uh oh_ , Zayn thought and he took another hit from his cigarette. 

“Yes…” Liam replied, hesitant. With that answer, a fist flew into his face and Liam stumbled back from the hit. Out of defense (even though he wasn’t even being acknowledged), Zayn grabbed his skateboard by the top wheels and slammed it against the side of the attacker’s head, the sound of bone cracking audible in the quiet street. Zayn tucked his board back under arm and stuffed his hands in his pocket, staring up at the goon in front of him, a bored look on his face. 

 “What the fu—” He growled and tried to pull out a gun, but Liam stopped him short with a punch to the face and a knee to the stomach. They both lied unconscious in the street. 

 “What was that about?” Zayn asked with the cigarette at his lips. 

 “Probably some of Bone Saw’s friends,” Liam replied casually. “Happens all the time.”

 “You just get ambushed in the streets?” Zayn raised a brow and took a last drag before stomping the cigarette out. 

Liam shrugged like it was all apart of life. “Yeah—angry fans, friends, whatever. I’d imagine those are Saw’s friends or something ‘cause I kind of ended his career tonight.” Liam looked at the bodies at their feet. The one Zayn hit was forming a pool of blood. “Should we call someone?”

 Zayn furrowed his brow and scoffed, “No way! They were probably gonna kill you.” He footed the bleeding man’s shoulder. “He’s gone anyway.”

 “What if the cops find out it was us?” Liam asked, clearly starting to get a bit paranoid.

 “We say it was out of self defense. Which it was.” Zayn shrugged and started to walk again. A few moments passed and Liam caught up with him. _Good_.

 “What’s that thing made out of?” Liam motioned towards Zayn’s skateboard. “You don’t just kill a guy with a regular skateboard.”

 “Well, it’s not a regular skateboard.” Zayn smirked and pressed the board closer to his side. “This thing’s been by my side since forever.”

 “Aren’t you a bit old for skateboards?” Liam bugged.

 “Damn, you say that like I’m fifty.” Zayn chuckled. “I’m 21. I’ll ride this board to my grave.”

 Liam nodded slowly and glanced behind his shoulder. “So, my place?”

 Zayn didn’t even notice he was walking away from the hotel. For once, Zayn decided to ignore his instincts and looked at Liam. “Yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ziam grows


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been distracted with the zerrie news LMAO

”So, you just, like, flip it? Like a regular coin?”

“Yeah, and then I press this to retract it.”

“Woah…And it’s so light! How can metal be like this?”

“Special properties,”

“You gotta let me try this out some time,”

“We’ll see.”

“ _We’ll see…_ Alright…Here we are…Welcome to the bachelor pad,” Liam unlocked the door and flicked on the light as he entered. Zayn closed the door behind him and looked around the room. To the left there was a kitchen, and in front of him was the living room. Liam kicked off his shoes and motioned for Zayn to follow him. In between the living room and kitchen was a hallway. 

“Here’s the bathroom,” Liam gestured to the room left of him. “and here’s your room.” Liam opened the door right to a simple room with a queen bed, dresser, and TV. “My room is at the end of the hall, and that door there is the laundry room, in case you need to do any of that.”

Zayn walked into his room and looked around, “Thanks, Payno.” He said and shrugged off his backpack and unlaced his boots.

“No problem…Look, you can stay as long as you need,” Liam leaned against the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck. Before Zayn could even protest, Liam changed the subject. “Are you hungry? I could cook something up real quick,”

“No, I’m good. Thank you, though.” Zayn smiled, half lying. He was close to starving, but he needed rest more than he needed food. 

“Alright,” Liam pushed off the door. “I’m getting some sleep then. Night, Nyaz.”

“Night,”

 

***

 

“What the fuck do you mean he’s only a kid? Kill hi—” The terrorist was cut off with a bullet to the head, falling down in the middle of a school hallway they had liberated as a base. “Mars? Mar—” Zain stomped on the device ‘Mars’ was talking into, silencing his ally.

Zain continued down the hallway, hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around the gun. He wasn’t planning on spending his day like this, so Zain wasn’t in a particularly good mood. Everyone was outside the school fighting, but Zain was sent to clear out the snipers that were inside the school, because—for some reason—Rulowe’s military couldn’t do that. 

Zain climbed up the steps to the next floor. Four floors of the school, two snipers on each; he had already cleared two floors and decided to take his sweet time finishing the rest. Not that Zain didn’t want more people to die from the men in here, he just didn’t want to spend today shedding blood. 

“Yeah, we have an intruder. Back up may be ne—” The body tumbled down the steps next to Zain, his gun following him. Blood was all over Zain’s new sneakers and his arm was starting to hurt from holding his gun for so long. He didn’t want to be here killing strangers and and walking through school hallways. He wanted to be home.

Zain stood in to the classroom door in front of him and sighed. _Happy birthday to me._

 

***

 

“Holy shit…” Liam gasped when he opened up the link. His friend sent him a video of him and Nyaz fighting and it already had over one million views. He leaned in closer to his computer screen, eyes set on Nyaz to see how fast he really was. All he took was one step and Nyaz was already behind Liam, his movement was basically nonexistent. Liam hadn’t realized how strong Nyaz’s punch was. Yes, he almost black out after one hit, but that hit sent him soaring to the left side of the ring. _Who is this guy?_

Liam heard Nyaz’s door finally open and from Liam’s position he could see Nyaz step out into the hallway, hair a mess and yawning, wearing only his boxers and one sock. It was noon. Liam jumped out of bed and carried his laptop with him as he raced towards Nyaz. “Good morning, Liam.” Nyaz greeted as he slid into the stool in front of Liam’s counter. His voice was low and raspy, and Liam felt breathless for a moment when he heard it. 

“It’s noon,” Liam laughed and shook off his breathlessness as he placed the laptop in front of Nyaz. “Check it, dude! We’re going viral.” 

Nyaz rubbed his eye and leaned towards the screen. _Does he wear glasses?_ Liam wondered when he noticed Nyaz’s eyes a bit close for usual comfort. “Fuck…Already over a million views…” Nyaz muttered under his breath

“You don’t sound too happy about it,” Liam noticed, a little disappointed in his reaction.

Nyaz ignored him and rushed out of the stool and back to his room. “Do you know…” Nyaz walked back out with a note in his hand. “Do you know where this is?”

Liam furrowed his brows and grabbed the sticky note. _1764 Mezo Rd. Room 4B_ “Uh…yeah, but that’s all the way across town in some sketchy neighborhood. Why?”

“How long will it take me to get there by car?” Zayn rushingly asked.

“Depends on traffic…but I guess around 45 minutes? Why? Do you need a ride?” Liam asked and followed Nyaz to the bathroom when he ran off mid sentence. 

“Nyaz, what’s wrong? Wh—okay, dude, that’s my toothbrush.” Liam interrupted himself and tried to take his brush out of Nyaz’s mouth. Nyaz stepped back and continued brushing. 

“I need to get that video down,” Nyaz said through the toothpaste. He spit it out in the sink and washed off the brush and pushed past Liam to his room.

“Why? Kilam, we’re gonna be all over the place with that fight!” Liam watched Nyaz throw on the hoodie and pants he wore yesterday, genuinely confused with his behavior. 

“Exactly,” Nyaz replied and opened up his backpack.

“What, do you not want fifteen minutes of f—what the fuck, is that a gun?” Liam pointed to the pistol Nyaz pulled out from his backpack and an ammo clip in his other hand.

“Yes and yes,” Nyaz answered as he reloaded his weapon and placed it back in his bag. He threw it over his shoulder, the entirety of his outfit was black and he was like a giant walking shadow. Nyaz grabbed the note from Liam’s hand as he walked by.

Liam stood dumbfounded at the doorway. _What is going on?_ Liam thought and sped walked back to his living room. Nyaz was typing on his laptop and paused while he read something. “Nyaz, what the fuck is happening?” Liam asked again, getting annoyed.

“I need videos of the fight taken down,” He answered and stepped away from the laptop. “Sorry, Payno, but it’s for my own good.” He pulled the coin out from his pocket and flipped it up as he rushed out. 

“Get back here!” Liam yelled and quickly tied up his shoes and ran out to follow him. The elevator closed as he reached it, so Liam sprinted to the stairs and rushed down as fast as he could, unzipped jacket flying behind him. 

As he reached the lobby he saw Nyaz run out and roll away from the building on his skateboard. Liam ran out after him, dodging other pedestrians as best as he could with his eyes set on Nyaz. He was running as fast as he could while Nyaz was casually coasting down the street at what looked like a million miles per hour. 

Liam himself wasn’t entirely sure why he was chasing after Nyaz. He wasn’t upset that Nyaz wanted the video down, he was upset that Nyaz wouldn’t tell him _why_. _He has no reason to tell you anything! You guys met last night! Not even 24 hours ago!_ Liam’s subconscious voiced in his head. 

_Yes he does! You’re in the video too, you’re the one who fought him, gave him a place to stay. You deserve an explanation. You’re apart of this!_ The other side of his subconscious counteracted and all he could hear where the two sides of his mind arguing. Liam stayed chasing. 

Zayn was racing down the sidewalk, swiveling through the pedestrians as the sidewalks started to get busier. He was completely unfazed, though, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket and a focused look on his face as he looked between the street signs and the people. _Take a right up here._ He made a sharp turn when he reached the corner and thought back to the directions from the laptop. By now, he was thankful for his instincts for telling him not to take a car. The traffic was starting to get busy and soon Zayn would probably have to get off his skateboard and run the rest of the way with the amount of people crowding up the sidewalk. 

Zayn looked over his shoulder to check and see how far Liam was behind him. The sea of people was parting ever so slightly. Liam was close. Why was he following him, though? _How am I going to explain this to him?_ Zayn wondered and faced forward. _He’s persistent, no doubt he wants an answer to this._ Zayn sighed. _He deserves one, he’s in the video too. How can I explain this without telling him I’m basically a war criminal back from the supposed dead?_ Zayn looked back, Liam still hot on his heels. _I’ll figure it out._

 

***

 

_“Officials are reporting that the terrorists and the son, Zain Malik, are still in search. Neither have left any trace of where they could’ve gone. Theories say that the Malik son was kidnapped by such group.”_ Zain was sitting on someone’s fire escape, watching the news through someone’s window. “ _Representatives have admitted that Zain is not in their hands, and that he hasn’t been seen since the shooting. The entire country is on watch for both Zain Malik and the terrorists who assassinated Yaser and Trisha Malik. If you have any information regarding either of them, please call this number._ ”

Zain had to get out of this city—out of this country. Rulowe was too dangerous for him, for any Malik. Someone killed his parents, no doubt he was a target too. Zain stood up from the fire escape and started to walk up to the roof of the building. 

It’s been a week now since the shooting, and when he heard news he wasn’t supposed to hear, Zain packed whatever he could and escaped from the house as fast as he could. The first few days he could barely keep himself together and was almost caught by foolish actions and unthought out plots. But now all he felt was anger. 

Anger towards the shooters.

Anger towards the security guards.

Anger towards whoever hated them.

Anger towards his parents.

Anger towards himself.

It has crossed Zain’s mind that all of this was his fault: drinking the body enhancer, fighting Rulowe’s wars, killing whoever Zain was instructed to kill. There was no other in his mind that the assassins were trying to kill the root of the problem. _Who was Rulowe fighting again? Oh, Maceon._ Zain had anger towards Maceon, too. If he wanted answers, he’ll probably have to start there. Where can Zain even begin? He’s been on missions—too many of them—and he had know idea who would be set out to kill his family other than the enemies Rulowe has been fighting. 

Zain needed to wait. It could take months—years even—before the search for him slowed down. And he was only twelve. Zain may be the most threatening, unstoppable, twelve year old killing machine in the world, but he wasn’t invincible. He needed to train, to hide, to grow, to collect, to prepare. He needed to wait. He needed to at least get out of this city. 

Zain look straight ahead of him towards the horizon. West, he decided. West was the direction to Rulowe’s infamous shantytown from where he was now. He’ll hide there until it starts to clear up. 

And from the roof of an apartment complex at 11:24 pm in Capitol City, Rulowe, Zain began to run. 

 

***

 

Zayn was close to the destination; the streets slowed down, the buildings got dirtier, and people were nonexistent. At this point Liam was walking behind Zayn who had also slowed down.

“I know you must be very confused about this—and tired, I’m sure,” Zayn yelled over his shoulder. “I’ll explain this all soon enough.”

Liam didn’t answer Nyaz, he only sped up to a light jog to catch up with him. Nyaz thankfully kept his slow roll, so Liam was next to him in a minute. 

“Can you at least tell me what we’re doing _here?_ This side of town’s dangerous.” Liam looked around the area out of fear that someone might’ve heard him. People were ruthless on this side of Utopia, something Liam has experienced a few too many times. 

“Don’t worry, Payno, I’ll keep you safe.” Nyaz looked at him with a smug look on his face in which Liam replied with a shove to the shoulder. “Alright, relax, we both know you can take care of yourself. We’re here because there’s a guy who can take down videos of us fighting.”

“Why do you want them down?” Liam asked.

Nyaz scanned the buildings before replying. “We’re close…I’ll explain later, Liam, but right now I just need you to work with me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam nodded, pleased that Nyaz was willing to tell him what was going on. 

Nyaz suddenly stopped and nudged Liam, “We’re here.” Liam stood in front of a decrepit, brown apartment complex. “Mezo Apartments. Guess room 4B is the guy’s,” Nyaz read on the sign above the door and kicked up his skateboard. 

Nyaz pulled open the door and Liam and him walked in to an equally decrepit and brown lobby with the man at the front desk passed out sleeping. They walked past him towards the elevators. “Not like we need him anyway,” Liam shrugged and pressed the up button the elevator. The doors opened up and they went in and up to the fourth floor. 

The doors opened to a brown and decrepit hallway, and Nyaz and Liam soon found room 4B. 

Zayn retracted his board and knocked on the door. Moments later it partially opened up, the door chain lock still in tact. Someone looked through the gap, cigarette hanging from his lip. “Can I help you?” He asked, eyes narrowed. 

“Yes, you can,” Zayn raised a brow and glanced over at Liam. “Buddy of mine, Marcus, told me you can keep tabs of stuff on Internet.”

“Marcus, the Clam Marcus?”

“Yes.”

The door closed and opened back up again fully unlocked now. The owner of the place stepped back to let them through. For someone who looked unkept—messy hair, oversized, stained shirt, and ripped jeans—the apartment was fairly clean. Right in front of Zayn were multiple monitors, each with different things on the screen. One of them had his and Liam’s fight playing.

“Ah, don’t be intimidated by that! Just my workspace,” The guy closed the door and walked to the ash tray on the kitchen counter and dabbed his cigarette out. “So what can I do for you…Oh shit…you’re Liam Payne.” The guy grabbed Liam’s hand and gave it a hard shake. “Dude, I am a _massive_ fan of yours. I was actually just watching your fight from last night. _Incredible,_ mate.” 

“Thank you,” Liam muttered, clearly embarrassed from the attention. 

“Fuck, and you’re Nyaz!” He gasped and roughly shook Zayn’s hand. “Holy shit, two legends in my apartment! Have a seat, guys, please! Do you need anything? Water? Beer? Chips? Cigarette?”

“No thanks,” Zayn declined and Liam shook his head. 

“Alright,” The guy took a seat on the love-seat across from the couch they were sitting on. “What can I help you with?”

“Why don’t we start off with your name?” Zayn motioned towards him.

“Oh, right, duh,” He laughed nervously. “Louis’ the name.”

“Alright, Louis,” Zayn nodded and leaned forward. “I came here because Marcus told me you know how to work the Internet.”

“Marcus the Clam Marcus?”

“Marcus the Clam Marcus.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a pro when it comes to hackin’ shit and all that,” Louis shrugged, a tiny smirk on his face. 

“Great,” Zayn returned the look. “because we need you to get rid of all the videos of our fight from last night and any sort of posts about them.”

Louis leaned back in the love-seat and nodded slowly. “That’ll be a challenge considering the thing’s been spreading like wildfire…” He pushed out of his seat and into the roller chair in front of all the monitors. Seconds of furious typing later, Louis leaned back in that chair and all the monitors displayed videos of the fight going around on different social media outlets. “You’re basically asking me to delete all of this and then some and _then_ block all the video links so they won’t be able to be posted again.”

“Yes.” Zayn nodded once and Louis raised a brow.

“I’m not one to ask questions—”

“Then don’t,” Zayn interrupted. “Will you do it?”

“Depends how much you pay me.”

“That can be discussed. How much does Marcus pay you?”

“Ten grand every two weeks,” Louis looked between Zayn and Liam. “For you I’ll charge thirty in total, but the price could change if this job is harder than expected.”

“25 and you got a deal.” Zayn countered and Louis stared at him for a couple minutes before outstretching a hand, accepting the deal.

“Make yourself at home while I get started on this,” Louis smiled and turned to the monitors, ready to begin.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> louis enters the story


	6. Chapter 5

It’s been about two hours now since Louis began, nonstop typing and clicking, with the every so often pause to take a sip from his energy drink or a smoke from his cigarettes. Liam and Zayn were sitting around him; Zayn would go between looking out the window or staring at the monitors and Liam would talk to Louis about the tournament and other sports affiliated topics. 

“So, Nyaz, you miss your Ring Master days?” Louis asked, breaking Zayn’s train of thought.

“What?” Zayn asked, turning away from the window and sat back on the love-seat next to the monitors.

“Your Ring Masters days: you miss ‘em?” He repeated and looked over at Zayn while he was typing away.

“Oh, uh, yeah sometimes. Nonstop fighting can get a bit dull after a while,” He shrugged and pointed over at Liam. “He was probably the most exciting fight I had in the ring.”

Zayn noticed Liam blushing and couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. 

“Yeah, I remember you just _blazed_ right through the tournament. Your fights were like two seconds long!” Louis scoffed. “You couldn’t even make the final match exciting.”

Zayn shrugged again, “I was an egotistical asshole that time. I wanted the tournament over with so I could get the crown and be the King.”

In the Best of the Best Tournament, all the Ring Masters competed to gain the title of King or Queen of the Underground. Ring Masters were the top ten strongest and undefeated fighters in the professional league. Very rarely do Ring Masters fight each other—they fight men and women who want to take their spot. In order to be in the professional league (like Liam or Bone Saw), you had to defeat a Ring Master. The Ring Master you defeat would be demoted to the A league—the level below professional—and you would take their place. Coming into the Best of the Best Tournament was tense for the competitors. 

“Why’d you leave?” Liam asked.

“Well, I heard about underground fighting and how you could make gazillions of dollars off of it, so I thought ‘why not?’ and I signed up. When I got through all the leagues and tournaments and became King, I didn’t see any reason to stay. So I left.” Zayn explained. He only used the place for getting money and honing his skills, so when he defeated everyone, he left. He was there to get stronger and fighting people that lost to him wouldn’t help.

“You were swimming in cash, weren’t you?” Louis asked but he already knew the answer.

“I had too much money at sixteen,” Zayn shook his head. “I almost blew it all away. I still have a small fraction left of it.”

“The fuck did you spend it all on?” Louis asked, outraged how he only had a “small fraction” of the billions of dollars he made.

“Gambling, girls, clothes, cars, homes,” Zayn sighed. He almost blew his cover that year. “Took it all for granted.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Louis muttered. 

“Alright, well what do you do with all your money?” Zayn snapped. “You get paid twenty grand every month, plus any other deals you make on the side, and you’re living _here._ ”

“Hey, hey, relax,” Louis narrowed his eyes. “The only reason I stay here is cause the police never show up on this side of town. Crime happens here all the time, and the ‘heroes of this great city’ don’t do shit. I’ve robbed people from their bank accounts and found out their personal information, no doubt I’ve been filed for an arrest,” Louis took a swig of his drink. “I’ve been doing this for years now and not one single cop has knocked on my door.”

“What do you do with the money?” Liam asks politely, trying to take away the tension.

“Food, clothes, renovations, bills, equipment,” Louis listed. “Every time I get a pay check I put some of it towards new pieces of technology or renovations for my apartment. I mean, look around. Do you really think this place looked like this when I first moved on?”

After that it was quiet for a while. By now it was four. 

“Liam, you got a match tonight?” Louis asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah…at like one in the morning or something like that,” Liam replied. He completely forgot about the tournament, even though they were talking about it a while ago. “I think I’m fighting The Hammer.”

“Ooh,” Louis shook in his seat. “That guy knocks you right on top of the head. You better watch out; I heard he’s crushed a skull using that move.”

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” Liam shrugged, trying to hide is excitement. He glanced over at Nyaz, who was staring at him with an emotionless look on his face. The gaze made the hairs on the back of Liam’s neck stand up. He couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. 

“Uh oh,” Louis mumbled and Liam looked away from Nyaz to the monitors. 

“What?”

“Sh…Someone’s trying to hack _me.”_ Louis was typing away furiously, almost sitting up out of his chair. “They’re trying to block off my system…Fuck, what the fuck?”

Nyaz was standing up, hands in fists and jaw clenched. This was not good. 

“D-does this happen usually?” Liam hesitantly asked, looking between Nyaz and Louis. 

“No! This fuck—Oh my fucking,” Louis jumped out of his chair. The monitors now were screening computer coding and blank screens. “People try to backfire hacks all the time,” Louis explained frantically. “But this…I’ve never had to deal with this.”

Liam and Nyaz stood there quietly. Liam wanted to walk over to Nyaz and tell him to calm down with how angry he was starting to look. Was he angry? Or was he fearful? Minutes went by of Louis furiously typing and cussing every word under the sun. It was clear Louis was losing this fight. 

“No. No, no, no, no, no, n—fuck!” Louis slammed a fist on his desk and backed up. The monitors were all black. Nothing on them. Louis was shaking and Nyaz was still in the same position. 

“They locked me out of my fucking computers,” Louis stated quietly. Was he shaking out of anger? Or was he scared that Nyaz was going to attack? Liam wouldn’t let that happen if he tried to.

“How much was deleted?” Nyaz asked, his voice low and a bit threatening. 

“A good fraction of data,” Louis replied quietly. “But not all of it. Someone’s out there trying to keep it all up.”

“Who?” Nyaz looked away from the monitors and stood in front of Louis. “You must’ve gotten an IP or user or _something,_ right?” 

“I was trying to block them off or backfire their hack but all their shit was on lockdown,” Louis backed up a little, refusing to look at Nyaz in the eye. “I couldn’t get anything. I was on the defense.”

“How long will you be locked out?” Nyaz asked. He was too calm right now.

“I mean…I can try to force my way back in but…”

Liam stepped forward and grabbed Nyaz’s arm. “Kilam,” He called carefully. Nyaz closed his eyes and sighed out. “Relax…It’s not his fault.” He continued slowly. Liam looked at Louis and asked, “If you can get back on, will you still be able to delete footage and media coverage of the fight?”

“They’re probably putting security on everything related to that fight right now,” Louis rubbed a hand down his face in frustration. “Chances are if I try anything they’ll just lock me out again.”

“When you get back online will you please call us and let us know what they did?” Liam requested desperately.

“Uh…Yeah. Yeah, I will.” Louis nodded. He looked around and grabbed an old business card and pen nearby, holding it out for Liam. Liam hesitantly let go of Nyaz’s arm, whose eyes were still closed and movements unwavering.  Liam scribbled his number down against the wall next to him and handed it to Louis.

“Good luck,” Liam said and walked off.

“You too.” Louis replied and they were gone. 

Nyaz was staring straight ahead now and Liam’s hand was still wrapped around his arm like he was about to run away. Liam hasn’t even known Nyaz for a day, but the last thing he wanted was letting Nyaz go. He looked too angry to be safe around. By now they were standing quietly in the elevator. 

“Let go of my arm, Liam.” Nyaz ordered, his tone of voice still low and threatening like it was to Louis. “I’m not going to fucking shoot up the place.”

Liam dropped his hand and sighed out a sorry. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Fan-fucking-tastic, Liam. I’m doing great.” Nyaz replied sarcastically, face still forward.

Liam clenched his jaw, getting frustrated with Nyaz. “If you could just tell me why those videos need to be down I might be better help.” He tried to explain calmly. He was getting annoyed with Nyaz’s behavior and secrecy. 

“Not here,” He muttered and walked out of the elevator. Liam followed behind, watching Nyaz take great steps towards the door and pulling out his coin. He had no idea what he was getting into. Maybe it was best for him to back off and drop this whole thing.

 

***

 

Liam peeked from outside the closet, checking to see if the coast was finally clear. The couple that were once in this room were gone, deciding to yell someplace else in their house. He stepped out from the coat closet and closed the door quietly behind him, continuing his search for whatever he thought was valuable. 

_“Clark, would you just listen to me for a second?”_ Liam heard the woman of the house cry out in the other room. 

_“Kendra, we haven’t got_ anywhere _with this! I need to go out,”_ That must’ve been the husband.

_“You always run away!”_ Kendra yelled back. _“Why can’t you just face things head on for once in your life.”_

Liam was getting sidetracked. Is Clark really going to run off again? He kind of wanted to stay and listen to their fight. He was in the front of the house now and the couple sounded like they were above him. The door was _right there—_ he could leave now if he wanted to. His backpack felt heavy, he’s got to have enough for some quick cash. But…Clark…and Kendra…Liam looked away from the front door and started to walk closer to the stairs to hear their fighting more clearly. It was best for him to just drop this and run away while he still could—their lives weren’t important to him.

“Clark, stop, _please!_ ” Kendra was practically sobbing now and Liam could hear them coming down the stairs. Liam quietly jogged towards the bathroom next to him and slid behind the door as they took their steps to the first floor. “Clark, we have been married for thirteen years now. We can get through this just pl—”

“Ken, how can we get through this? I’m tired of hearing these rumors about you having an affair!” Liam was thankful he stayed now. “Every time you deny them, I keep hearing about them! It’s humiliating to me and our marriage. Hearing about them all the time makes me think they’re real.”

“How _dare_ you doubt me like this!” Kendra screamed. “You’re believing lies over your own _wife_?”

Clark sighed, “Have you been fucking my boss, Kendra?”

Kendra hesitated. She must’ve been caught off guard by her husband’s straightforwardness. “N-no, Clark. I’m not _fucking_ your boss.”

It was quiet for a minute. Liam couldn’t see from where he was, but he guessed Clark was thinking what to believe. Liam himself thought Kendra was telling the truth, but _Clark_ was hiding something. 

Another sigh. “Kendra,” Clark began lowly. “I need to take a drive.”

“Fine,” Kendra hissed. “Take all the fucking drives you want. I’m done.”

“What do you mean ‘I’m done?’”

“I mean _I’m done_ ,” Kendra bit back and she stormed away, stomping back upstairs. Clark rushed in the opposite direction, slamming the door behind him. Seconds later, Liam heard the car pull out and drive away. 

Liam shimmied out from the bathroom and stood in the middle of the house, wondering what will happen to them now. He decided it was time to leave. His back was starting to hurt and the house was too quiet for Liam to feel completely secure. “Mom? I’m home!” Liam turned around to see a young girl close the door and ran to her. “Hey, who are y—” Liam cut her off and pressed his hand to her mouth.

“Shh,” He whispered and the girl furrowed her brows in confusion. The girl looked to be his age, maybe a year or two younger. She probably just got back from school judging by the uniform and books she was holding. He glanced over his shoulder to the staircase and to the floor above him. No sound from the mother. She was probably crying. “Um…Look, okay, so…” Liam tried to think of what to say. “Crap, alright. Look, your parents got in a fight and your mom’s very upset right now, okay? Just…Just don’t tell her you saw me. She’s already sad enough, ya know?” The daughter nodded under his hand. “Please don’t say anything.”

Liam slowly dropped his hand and the girl gave him a tiny smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Liam returned the smile and moved past her, leaving the house for good. He’ll never know what happened to Clark and Kendra and their daughter after that. 

Liam robbed his first house on his tenth birthday.

 

***

 

By now, Liam and Nyaz were back in central part of town. Nyaz was walking besides him, skateboard clutched under his arm and hands in his pocket like usual. They hadn’t talked at all since back at the elevator, and Liam was perfectly fine with it. Nyaz needed to cool off and the only thing Liam thought to do was give him space. 

The apartment complex was a few buildings away and the two had to force themselves through the crowd since it was rush hour. The constant buzz between cars and people almost made Liam lose focus of the situation. With Nyaz’s behavior, Liam was worried—even a little paranoid—of the situation he was in. Was he hanging out with a criminal? Was he letting some serial killer sleep in his guest bed? Was _he_ going to be in trouble for all of this? Was his life on the line right now? Liam refused to admit his fear; the idea of him being scared took a blow to his pride. That’s how he’s survived for so long: not being scared. So why was Nyaz making him feel something he didn’t want to?

Zayn looked over at Liam, unabashedly staring at his profile, trying to read what he was thinking. Liam looked like he did when he was about to fight, eyes cold and face hard like he was trying to stay focused. He was probably thinking about this whole mess he’s in. Zayn looked away, momentarily feeling guilty. Tonight, he’ll leave and forget Liam completely. The last thing he wanted was Liam, an innocent bystander, getting hurt or killed because of him. It’s happened before, and Zayn wanted to avoid that at all costs. 

When Louis was shut down while doing his work, Zayn knew someone had already found him. Was it the Nine? The police? Men of the Council? No matter who it was, Zayn would be in trouble—very dangerous trouble that would probably lead him to either faking his own death or having to go back to dirty living. It’s been a while since Zayn has actually killed anyone (besides that thug on the street that was planning on shooting Liam). He just didn’t want to get Liam involved. If Liam got involved, he’d probably have to kill someone. Many someones. Zayn didn’t want that. Zayn didn’t want innocent people to experience things he’s done since before he was a teenager. He’ll make up some bullshit story about how he’s some most wanted serial killer or jewelry thief and leave Liam alone forever. He’d never tell Liam the truth on who he really is, that’d only put Liam in more danger.

The loudness of the city was numbed as the doors of the apartment complex closed behind them and Zayn followed Liam to the elevators, ignoring the faint sense of deja vu. 

“Are you, uh, feeling better?” Liam asked cautiously, awkwardly clearing his throat to hide his slight uncomfortableness. Nyaz looked at him like as if he could see right through Liam and nodded his head. “You’re very upset—I can tell,” Liam continued. “If you don’t want to talk about _that_ today, that’s fine.” _Even though I desperately want to know who you are, what’s happening, and if I’m going to die because of this._

“No,” Nyaz sighed. “You need to know what’s going on. Let’s explain it over dinner, yeah?” 

Liam chewed on the inside of his lip to hold back some sort of grin or smirk or whatever he was trying to hide. “Dinner? Why didn’t you say that before we headed up?”

Nyaz rolled his eyes, “You can cook can’t you? Besides, I’m not gonna talk about this in some public dinner. _Plus_ , no one has to pay anything.”

“Y-yeah,” Liam cleared his throat again and walked out of the elevator when it landed on his floor, thankful to get away from the eye contact. “I can cook up whatever. Preference on what you like to eat?”

“What do you have?”

Liam pursed his lips in thought. “I know I have some chicken—”

“I love chicken,” Nyaz interrupted. “We can have that.”

“Yeah, sure. They’ve got to defrost first.”

“How long will that take?” Nyaz asked as Liam opened his apartment’s door. “I’m _starving._ ”

“Thirty minutes,” Liam shrugged. “I’m sure you can survive for an hour, right?”

“I guess,” Nyaz muttered and Liam wanted to laugh at his sudden change in mood. He was like a child. A 21 year old, tiny, deadly, child. Liam smiled when Nyaz flopped onto the couch with his face smushed on the arm. For a second Liam forgot about the videos and Nyaz's explanation, thankful to witness this side of Nyaz instead of what he saw earlier. This is what he liked to see. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smushy zayn ddjkdlsdks


	7. Chapter 6

”Fuck, Payno, this chicken is,” Nyaz brought his fingers to his lips and kissed them. “delicious. I don’t think I can get chicken this good at any restaurant—and I’ve been to, like, millions of five star restaurants.”

“Shut up,” Liam looked down, completely embarrassed. “It’s not _that_ good.”

“Say that for yourself,” Nyaz shook his head as he continued his complimenting while chewing. “You’re gonna have to make seconds.”

Liam didn’t know what to respond with, so he just gave Nyaz a red-faced grin and took another bite from his meal. “If you’re trying to sweeten me up before you break the news,” Liam finally spoke through his food, “it’s working.”

Nyaz didn’t say anything, only countered back with a smirk. He wasn’t _denying_ anything, but he wasn’t confirming either. Liam really couldn’t wait any longer—he’s been dying to know what was happening since they fought. He still had that faint feeling that he’s met Nyaz before, or they at least have some sort of connection. Liam wondered if Nyaz felt the same thing. 

“I know you want me to give you an explanation,” Nyaz called out, his tone suddenly serious and his eyes like daggers on Liam. “and I’m ready to tell. Are you ready?”

Liam furrowed his brows, confused that Nyaz wanted a confirmation. “Of course. I’ve been ready.”

Nyaz pursed his lips and pushed his plate away from his. They sat across from each other, the only thing separating them was the coffee table between the couches they sat in. Liam set down the plate and dug his elbows into his thighs, leg bouncing out of nerves while Nyaz sat perfectly still with his arms on his knees. 

“I don’t know if you noticed, Liam,” Nyaz began suddenly. “but I’m a dangerous man. You can see I posses talents that no one else has.” He paused, his eyes staring right through Liam. “I’m considered very dangerous to the public because of this. Knowing that there are millions of posts and videos and such about me will clearly bring attention to men and women of special forces, which is why I needed them taken down immediately.” He stopped again, checking for a reaction from Liam, but he was sat still with no trace of emotion on his face. Liam refused to give a reaction before Nyaz was done. “Clearly, that didn’t work out too well; someone caught Louis in his tracks and his work was nulled. Someone out there knows about me…someone like an officer, or someone seeking revenge, or even a man of the Council. Point is, I’ve been caught, and it won’t be long before I’m back on the radar and being hunted down.”

“What…What did you do?” Liam’s leg started to bounce again.

“I’m…” Nyaz furrowed his brows and stared at the coffee table, trying to answer his question. “I’m a killer. A hitman. An assassin.”

“So…you kill people. For money?” Liam clarified.

“Yes,” Nyaz answered almost immediately, a contrast to how slowly he answered the previous question. 

Liam wasn’t unfazed by this; his whole childhood was surrounded with criminals. His life _now_ was surrounded with criminals. To an extent, Liam was a criminal himself. “Should I be worried you’re gonna kill me next?”

“No,” Nyaz answered. “I’m not planning on killing you anytime soon.”

“How can you trust me so easily? I could turn you in right now,” Liam crossed his arms. He wasn’t really sure why he’d say that, maybe he just wanted a complete confirmation. Or maybe Liam liked that Nyaz was trusting him with this new information.

“Well—” Nyaz raised a brow and raised a finger to indicate the number. “One: you’re not a snitch. You watched me kill a man with my board and instead of contacting anyone, you walked away. Two—” He raised a second finger. “You work for an illegal fighting company, knowing _full well_ that what you do is illegal. What kind of criminal rats another one out? You’d probably get fired if Marcus ever found out you took me to the cops because he wouldn’t be able to trust you. Hell, he might have to kill you. And three—” A third finger was raised. “We both know who would walk out this door if things came down to _that_.” Nyaz emphasized ‘that’ and dropped his hand. “I trust you, Liam. You’ve been nice to me, you let me stay at your place, you even followed me all the way across town. _And_ you cooked me a fantastic meal.”

Liam felt his heart drop to his stomach. Is he…leaving? Before he could even ask, Nyaz finished it off, “I’ll be leaving tonight. I don’t want you anymore involved than you already are.”

Liam swallowed dryly. Why was he so upset about this? He should be thankful this professional killer will leave his home and never return. He could feel Nyaz’s eyes on him as Liam stared down at his feet, trying to figure out what the _fuck_ he was feeling and why. 

“I—Uh…” Liam spoke up, trying to put together what he was trying to say. “You don’t have to leave.” He looked up at Nyaz, who was taken aback by what he just heard. Liam was just confused as he was at this point. “I mean…Like—you’re safe here, I guess. My apartment is registered under a fake name and no one, uh, knows that you’re staying with me.”

Nyaz stared at him for a few moments before shaking his head. “No, no. There is plenty of footage of us in the lobby and elevator together.”

“We can have Louis get rid of it,” Liam suggested quickly. _What am I doing?_

“Li—No,” Nyaz stood up, shaking his head some more. “Once the police get ahold of that video, they’ll come for you first. I don’t want to be around when they do.”

“They won’t—you won’t,” Liam stood up too. “They won’t be able to track me down, and the video that’s going around doesn’t give them a clear shot of my face. Or yours.” _Liam, shut up and stop getting yourself into other people’s business. He’s already made his decision._

Nyaz stood there with a confused look on his face, probably trying to understand what Liam was doing. Liam doesn’t even know what he’s doing. But he was doing something. 

“Wh-why do you want me to stay so bad?” Nyaz blurted out, an annoyed yet lost tone hitched in his voice. “Like…You do realize you’re fucking with serious shit right now? You could get thrown in jail. You could _die._ I…No. Liam, no. I’m not staying.” Nyaz looked like he was ready to run off now, but his feet stayed planted. 

“I’m giving you a place to stay, fuck, I’m even _helping_ you—”

“Exactly!” Nyaz interrupted, finger pointed at Liam. “I don’t _want_ you helping me! I don’t want innocent people getting hurt because of me.”

“Says the guy who kills people for a living,” Liam held out his hands. “Nyaz, just…stay for a while longer, okay? At least until Louis tells us what’s going on.”

“Why do you want me to stay so bad?” Nyaz questioned. “Do you like the idea that you’re living with a killer? Does this give you some sort of rush? I know you’re an adrenaline junkie; I can see it in your eyes.”

Liam dropped his hands and looked downwards. Was this why? Liam lived for the thrill. He loved knowing he was in danger, that’s why he was such a successful fighter. Maybe that’s why he wanted Nyaz to stay—he liked this _new_ feeling. A different kind of danger. 

“I don’t know,” Liam decided on saying. “I just think you should stay.”

“Are you scared?” Nyaz pushed further, not pleased with the answer. “Like more of those thugs like the ones from last night will attack you again?”

“No,” Liam shot that down. “I’ve dealt with people like that for some time. Fuck, why can’t you just accept a place to stay?”

“Because you’re not giving me a reason to!” Nyaz almost yelled. “Saying you don’t know why does not help your reasoning for why I should stay here any longer.”

Liam chewed on his lip, trying to explain why he wanted this death trap to stay. “I just don’t want you to go…?” Liam tried to answer, forming sentences he couldn’t speak out loud. “Like, you’re my friend. I don’t want you to leave when you might not be in total danger.”

It was quiet for what felt like hours after that. Liam’s eyes were still down at his feet, still trying to piece together what he was saying and feeling and why. 

“I’m your…friend?” Nyaz practically whispered, and Liam snapped his head up to see Nyaz looking at him with wide eyes and a softened face.

Liam felt like the wind was knocked straight out of his lungs, like Bone Saw came out of the blue and punched him again. Nyaz looked so…innocent, like the word ‘friend’ was something foreign to him. That feeling of some sort of connection with Nyaz strengthened; the once faint sense was turning into an itch Liam couldn’t scratch. It was there, but Liam didn’t know where. 

“Yes,” Liam confirmed and he could practically see Nyaz relax right there. Who was this man before him? Someone who could kill a man with a skateboard without blinking was the same someone who softened at the word friend. 

Liam watched Nyaz stand across from him, hand clenching and unclenching and eyes skimming over Liam’s face like he was trying to read a poker face Liam wasn’t even wearing. 

“I’m your friend.” Nyaz stated, hand still flexing and eyes still scanning.

“You’re my friend.” Liam confirmed seriously, keeping eye contact with the killer in front of him. 

Nyaz’s eyes flicked down and the flexing of his hand stopped. “Okay,” He said just above a whisper and walked away. Liam shortly heard the bedroom door shut close.

 

 

***

“Hey! Can you pass the ball?” Zain’s head snapped up at the voice ahead of him and then at the ball at his feet. There was a group of boys in the street and one of them was waving at him. Zain grabbed the ball and threw it over to the group. _That was fun._ “Thanks! Wanna play with us?” The boy asked, a wide smile on his face. Zain smiled widely, “Y—” he stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The boys’ smiles disappeared and some of them started to back away. Zain swallowed hard as he watched some of the kids run away from him and the man behind him. 

“I can’t,” Zain whispered, his eyes set back on the ground, trying to ignore the heaviness of the hand clasped on his shoulder. When Zain looked back up, the boys were gone, ball left behind to roll in the street. 

“It’s for your own good,” The owner’s hand spoke deeply.

“Why?” Zain teared up and turned to face his mentor. “They just wanted to play.”

“Having friends isn’t safe,” Wolf explained. “They’ll get in your way, and in the end they’ll try to hurt you. And if they don’t hurt you, you’ll hurt them.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Zain defended weakly. “I wouldn’t…”

Wolf stared down at him, a calm look on his scary face. “You would. They would.”

Zain swallowed back his tears and gave a small nod. “Friends will only get in my way. In the end, they’ll hurt me or I’ll hurt them.” He announced robotically. _Friends will only get in my way. In the end, they’ll hurt me or I’ll hurt them. Friends only get in my way. In the end, they’ll hurt me or I’ll hurt them. Friends only get in my way…_ Zain repeated the phrase in his head over and over again. 

“You’ll thank me for this later,” Wolf reassured and Zain nodded again as he focused on the repeating lesson in his head. 

Zain and Wolf continued to walk down the barren street of some city in Maceon. Zain didn’t see anymore kids for the rest of the day. _Friends will only get in my way. In the end, they’ll hurt me or I’ll hurt them._

 

***

 

Liam left Nyaz alone. By eight, he went to his room and slept for a few hours to get some rest before his match and when he woke up three hours later, Nyaz was still locked up in his own room.  

Louis had yet to call, which was worrying Liam, but he couldn’t do anything about it since he didn’t have his contact. Liam knew he didn’t have time to think about that—he had a match tonight. By midnight he was out the door without any word from Nyaz. 

 

_Friends will only get in my way. In the end, they’ll hurt me or I’ll hurt them._

_Friends will only get in my way. In the end, they’ll hurt me or I’ll hurt them._

_Friends will only get in my way. In the end, they’ll hurt me or I’ll hurt them._

_Friends will only get in my way. In the end, they’ll hurt me or I’ll hurt them._

_Friends will only get in my w_

Zayn was writing the same lesson over and over again in the notebook he kept with him. His eyes were glazed over and his handwriting turned into an overlapping, scribbled mess. At this point his hand was moving on his own, writing the same line that has been drilled in his brain since ten. 

In his mind, Zayn was fighting the voice in he hasn’t heard for years. He didn’t want this to happen; he didn’t want to feel like this. Zayn has lived so long without companionship because of what he was taught and how he lived. He’s avoided the trance for so long, and now here he was—sitting in a pitch black room writing the same line over and over with his eyes staring off into space and Wolf yelling at him in the back of his head. 

_Friends will only get in my way. In the end, they’ll hurt me or I’ll hurt them._

_That’s not true,_ Zayn fought. _I am Liam’s friend. He won’t hurt me. I won’t hurt him._

_How can you be so sure?_ Wolf questioned, the old yet familiar voice laced with mockery. _You don’t know him. You don’t know anything about him._

_I trust him._ Zayn defended. _There’s a tie with him. I can feel it._

_That’s not what your instincts are saying._ Wolf’s words echoed fiercely. _What were you taught? “Only listen to your instincts.”_

_My instincts are telling me not to listen to them._ Zayn backfired. _Liam is different. He’s not something I can just read._

_You’re a fool! You’ve been alone almost all your life because you’ve followed my orders. This “friend” of yours will get in your way, and in the end, you’ll kill him. You almost killed him in that fighting match last night._ Wolf at this point was screaming at him in twenty different directions.

_I didn’t almost kill him!_ Zayn argued. _I made sure I wouldn’t._

_Remember the last time you said you were sure you wouldn’t hurt him? Do you remember what happened?_

Zayn physically and mentally tensed up. _Shut up._

_That friend of yours got in your way, and you killed him because of it._

_Shut up._

_The one friend you had…you killed him._

_Shut up._

_Poor kid’s life was lost because you thought I was wrong. You thought you could have a companion and look what happened. He would probably still be alive today._

_Shut up._

_You were made to kill and you were made to hurt. In the end, your “friend” will be another victim._

“Shut up!” Zayn screamed and he snapped out of the trance with wide, dazed eyes. His chest was heaving and his were hands trembling. The pen he held was broken in half now, ink spilled over his hand and the page he was on. The room was silent, and the lesson that chanted in his mind was turning to white noise. “Shut up,” He whispered. “It won’t happen again.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that took a dark turn.....this is what happens when you decide to write in the middle of the night  
> zayn's got one fucked up mentality


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rose from my coma to write this. thanks z for the new hair

”On the left: champion of the Best of the Best Tournament three years ago. Hand of steel and tough as nails, the big, the brutal, the _HAMMERRRR!_ ” An uproar of cheer rang across the arena as Liam’s competitor walked out, arms raised and a cocky grin over his face. The Hammer was one of the most popular Ring Masters and probably one of Liam’s most threatening matches. The only thing that held him back from winning the last two years’ tournament was because of rumored use of steroids, but this year he’s been checked clean. The referee even went above and beyond to show the arena Hammer’s blood test to show he didn’t use any steroids. The Hammer was back to take what was rightfully his, all he had to do was get through Liam. 

By now in the tournament, Liam was fighting in the quarter finals and this was the key fight to ensure his position in the Final Four. It was his first time competing in this tournament and no one ever expected him to last this long; he was competing with men and women who’ve been Ring Masters for years. He was the complete underdog, despite his winning streak. “The right side holds the unexpected, the fearless, the man who stands: PAAAAYNE TRAAAAIN!” The uproar continued and Liam walked out. “He’s still walking strong after a fight with Bone Saw and the old timer, Nyaz Kilam. This will be quite a match folks! The Hammer is back to take what is his and so far no one has been able to stop him. Last match he finished off Big Boss in _five minutes._ We all know Liam’s one to last in the ring, but how long can he be with T.H.? Place your bets!”

The Hammer was no bigger than Bone Saw, but his hands were incredibly large. _Definitely bigger than my own head._ He had a few tattoos scattered around his arms all with the similar theme of nails and hammers. _Very dedicated to the name._ He was staring Liam down with an emotionless look, but even from here Liam could see the heated readiness in his eyes. _He’s a cocky man._ But who can blame him? He’s finished matches off in less than ten minutes. Liam was way too excited to be facing this. Bone Saw was able to crack a rib, who _knows_ what The Hammer could do. _You were also able to break Saw’s wrist and ruin his career,_ Liam’s subconscious motivated. _You got this._

Soon enough, the referee called them to the middle for a shake, which Hammer brutally gave. Liam didn’t even give a proper hand because it was crushed under Hammer’s grip. _I don’t think he meant any harm with that either,_ Liam shook his hand for feeling as he walked back. _What’s his hands made of?_

Liam shook off any pain. _I survived Bone Saw and I survived Nyaz. I can do this._ Liam continued to motivate himself, using his fight with Nyaz as a main vice. He survived punches that could kill the men he fought. He remembered Nyaz telling him that during the fight. The Hammer was nothing. _You survived Nyaz, you can beat The Hammer._

Just like that the bell went off and the crowd and commentator began their support. Liam walked forward from his corner and raised his arms, Hammer doing the same. “Who will start this match?” The commentator questioned. 

The Hammer was gradually moving closer while Liam kept to his spot. Both were jogging in place, The Hammer constantly stepping towards or away from Liam. “And there he goes!” Like that, The Hammer went for a punch, his fist colliding with Liam’s arms as Liam went to block. “ _Ooh,_ that’ll leave a mark.”

The Hammer wound up again, but Liam quickly dodged the second attack and moved out from his spot and behind him. Before The Hammer could recover, Liam landed a blow to the center of his back. The Hammer stumbled only slightly and swung around quickly to deal a fist straight to Liam’s cheek all in one swift motion. “Holy _shit,_ that was graceful!” If Liam wasn’t the target in the ring he would probably agree with the man in the box. Liam broke out of his short daze only to be greeted with another one on the other side of his face. _Knows how to take advantage of stunned opponents,_ Liam noted. He also noted while getting a blow to the gut, that his fists certainly lived up to his name. His punches easily matched up to Bone Saw’s, and if Hammer got a hit to his chest a rib would certainly break again. 

Liam moved back as Hammer tried for another hit, only to miss by a few inches. The whip of his arm was cutthroat to the air, the sure sound of it was painful. Liam went in for his own punch which was quickly blocked and from there he went for a foot to the knee, which The Hammer fell prey to. The stomp to the center of his leg caused Hammer’s defense to break and Liam took advantage of the open spot. “Payne Train using a typical attack of his: a foot right to the knee. Kid’s got to have a steel leg since that move has worked every time he’s used it!” Liam sent a fist to the side of Hammer’s head and then an uppercut to his chin. 

The Hammer fell to his back from the multiple impacts, and for a second Liam thought he was able to knock him out so soon. Sadly, he was wrong as he watched his opponent stand up, looking way more angry than he did earlier. “Uh oh,” The commentator muttered into the mic. Uh oh was right; The Hammer charged straight for Liam, one fist swinging and the other winding up. Liam dodged the first fist but was met with the second right to his shoulder, luckily nothing fatal. The Hammer continued with flying fists, making Liam lean against the ropes slightly hunched over with his arms taking a beating. With each punch he could feel his arms being closer to breaking—one of them might have already been sprained. “Hammer’s got Payne Train cornered and doesn’t look like he’s holding back anytime soon! I can see the bruises already.”

The only way Liam could get out of this was if he sacrificed a blow to the head. He remembered Louis saying that The Hammer was able to crack a skull with his fist; the idea of that happening to Liam was blood pumping. Liam survived Nyaz’s punches, The Hammer would be like a pinch. The safer option would be if Liam was able to grab onto his arm or hand that can give him a safe opening. Liam looked around his arms to watch Hammer’s come down to him with no particular rhythm. It was just punch after punch after punch. Liam would have to take a lucky guess on when to grab. “The Hammer is still going! I’m about to take a nap—he’s tiring me out.”

The Hammer’s left fist flew at him, and in one quick motion, Liam grabbed whatever he could of The Hammer’s fist and gripped as hard as he did with Bone Saw’s wrist. “Payne Train’s reflexes are coming in handy! How long can he hold that grip, though?” Liam pulled Hammer’s arm behind his back and they switched places; The Hammer was pressed against the ring while Liam stood behind him, holding his arm against his opponents back as hard as he could. 

“Payne Train has pinned The Hammer down! What’s the next move?”

That was a good question; Liam didn’t exactly know what to do from here. He curled his fingers harder around Hammer’s wrist, feeling Hammer’s accelerated pulse as he struggled to break free. “Liam’s hidden strength is coming into play now; is he planning to break another wrist tonight?”

Not really having any other ideas, Liam grabbed onto Hammer’s pinned arm and spun around, throwing The Hammer down in the process. Liam looked down at him as he struggled to get up, the impact of the ground making him breathless. 

Liam walked to where his head was, keeping a distance away from his hands and waited for The Hammer to stand up. He eventually did, but was knocked down again when Liam punched him straight in the center of his face. “And he’s down again! The Hammer should _not_ have wasted all his energy on playing piñata with Train’s arms. With a punch straight to the nose, Payne Train might’ve broken _another_ bone in this tournament.”

Even though Liam was winning, he didn’t feel safe being here with a beaten up Hammer. Another burst of anger from his match might be Liam’s downfall. He needed to finish him off now. The Hammer was on one knee, a perfect height for him to get Liam’s own right in the nose again. “A knee straight to the nose! If Hammer’s nose wasn’t broken now, it sure the fuck is, folks. Payne Train is not holding back tonight.”

Liam looked down at The Hammer, back on the floor, who’s hand was covering his bleeding nose and his eyes squinting up at Liam. Suddenly, Liam felt a grip on his ankle and he was pulled down to the ground and The Hammer was quickly on top of him, blood dripping down from his nose to Liam’s face. The crooked nose was a ghastly sight, and Hammer’s deranged look wasn’t any better. “The Hammer takes the advantage! Payne Train’s pinned down! Could this be the end of Payne Train?!”

“You little fuck,” The Hammer growled lowly. “Broke my fuckin’ nose, you fuck.” He punched Liam on the side of his head. Liam’s eyesight went spotty from that and his head felt like a bobblehead as he tried to move it. The Hammer punched him again in the same spot. His vision was even more fucked up from that hit. Liam could not lose. 

Liam focused in on his legs and brought his knee up to Hammer’s groin, packing a ruthless hit, causing The Hammer to drop his arm and cup it to his pelvis. With that, Liam shoved The Hammer down and once again the roles were reversed. It was really hard to focus and Liam’s vision was blurry and spotty. _Finish him off._ Liam kneeled one leg on Hammer’s chest and punched his head with all the strength he had left. It was getting hard for Liam to hear anything now. In the back of his head, Liam swore he heard the final bell ring and the commentator announcing Liam as the winner, but he passed out before he could even find out. 

 

Zayn was pulling nervously at his hoodie sleeves as he waited for Liam to come through the door. Liam left at eleven and it was three in the morning now. His match was at one—certainly he should’ve been back by now…right? Zayn couldn’t remember the time he and Liam met, so he couldn’t use anything for reference. 

Zayn would usually give someone the benefit of the doubt in situations like these…but he was Liam’s friend; he had a right to be a little concerned on where he was. Without another second of thought, Zayn rushed to his bedroom and put on his boots and backpack and grabbed his skateboard. He skipped the elevators and rushed down the stairs, making it to the lobby and out on the street in a minute. The city had settled down by now, the only people on the sidewalks were drunks and the sleeping homeless. He rode towards the direction of the Clam, glancing to groups and people he’d pass to check to see if it was him. 

Close to ten minutes of riding, Zayn saw Liam walking towards him with his head down. Was that gauze around his head? “Liam?” Zayn called out and Liam’s head snapped up. 

“Nyaz?” Zayn couldn’t help but flinch slightly at the fake name. He felt so fake whenever Liam called him that, but it was better than him knowing Zayn’s true identity. “What are you doing out here?” He asked when they were face to face. On his skateboard, Zayn was eye to eye with Liam, and Liam looked tired and sick.

“What happened to your head?” Zayn asked, ignoring Liam’s question.

“The fight tonight…” Liam mumbled and rubbed his eye. “It was rough.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes.” Liam beamed at that, and Zayn couldn’t help but smile too. “I’m in the Final Four. First rookie to do so.” He bragged, but looked away in embarrassment when he expressed his excitement and accomplishments. _Too humble for his own good._

“Are you okay to walk?” Zayn stepped off his skateboard as an invitation for Liam to ride it instead.

“Yeah, don’t worry, mate. I’m fine.” Liam and Zayn started to walk down the sidewalk together.

“What are you doing out here?” Liam repeated after a few minutes of silence.

“Oh, uh,” Zayn rubbed the back of his neck and looked anywhere but at Liam. “You were gone for a while, so, y’know…” _Why am I so fucking bad at this?_

“Were you worried about me?” Liam smirked. 

“Uh,” Zayn muttered. “I mean…I guess…”

Liam laughed at that response, and Zayn felt his cheeks reddened at how awkward he felt. Caring for people was more embarrassing than he thought. 

“It’s okay to worry about your friends,” Liam clarified. _Friends._ Zayn ignored the lesson that was whispering from the back of his mind. 

“Um, are _you_ okay, though?” Liam asked, the change of mood from him was sudden. “Earlier, you got very…”

“Weird?” Zayn tried.

“Yeah,” Liam breathed out a laugh. “You seem better now, though.”

“Yeah, I am.” Zayn agreed. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Liam shoved Zayn’s shoulder. “It was weird of me to bring that down on you.”

“It’s not your fault at all, Liam.” Zayn looked at him sincerely. “I’ve lived a very… _weird_ life. If I ever act out, just now it’s not your fault. It’s me.”

Liam nodded, and thankfully didn’t push any further. Zayn appreciated that Liam knew when to stop, even when he wanted to know. He could tell Liam was a curious kid.

“So,” Zayn cleared his throat. “Tell me about the fight.” And from there, Liam explained his fight the rest of the way home—using wild hand gestures and excited facial expressions. Zayn half listened to the story, but mostly focused on Liam’s face. Even after getting a concussion and being sick tired, Liam had such a genuine look of excitement spread throughout his face. He was such a happy man; Zayn found it kind of beautiful. He had wished for over exaggerated emotions all his life, but Zayn grew up too fast to experience what Liam felt. He was jealous. Jealous of the beauty in excitement and happiness. Jealous that Liam felt it all the time. Jealous that Liam probably lived a life of happiness and excitement. 

 

***

 

“You piece of shit!” Liam heard the house owner yell behind him and felt a bullet fly by his head. “Get the fuck back here!” 

Liam had been caught on this run and this was the first time a home owner pulled out their gun and fire. This wasn’t the first time he was being chased down, but Liam was fearing for his life when he would hear bullets kick up the pavement around him or whizz by his ear. He took a look behind his shoulder, the angry man a few feet away with a pistol gripped in one hand. 

Liam kept his eyes ahead and jumped off the sidewalk to the center of street to get away from the street lamps. The noise was already waking up too many neighbors, and Liam had to get out of the gated community before anyone alerted the police. 

“Fuck!” Liam hissed under his breath and pressed his hand to his bleeding ear. A bullet was able to skim just a layer of his skin. Liam was sprinting for his life now, his feet moving faster than his mind and it wasn’t long before he reached the gate. The guard was still knocked out but if Liam didn’t hurry he’d snap out from his slumber. 

Liam tossed his backpack over and started to climb the gate as fast as he could. Another shot close to his hand. Liam was stressing out and scrambling up the gate as fast as he could. He was panicking too much for comfort, and was a mess when he felt his shoelace get stuck around the looped pattern of the gate. 

Liam was straddling the top, dangerously leaning towards his foot that was still inside the neighborhood. He frantically tried to untie the knotted lace, but his panicked fingers weren’t helping. Blood from his ear was dripping down his neck now. Another shot. Liam gave up untying and tried to pull his foot out of the shoe and leave it stuck to the gate. His angle was hard for him to work with, especially since he was trying to keep his balance so he wouldn’t fall over and break his neck or crack his skull or _something._

Just as Liam finally freed his now shoeless foot, a shot rang through his ears and he felt blood gush from his leg. _Oh no, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…_ Liam fell over the other side of the gate. He was bleeding out fast from his leg and now the fall caused the side of his head to start bleeding. Liam blindly searched from his backpack and when he did he stumbled up and ran as fast as he could with a wounded leg and fractured skull. _Mom won’t be happy at all. Fuck…Dad._ Liam was more worried about his parents than his bleeding wounds. He needed a hospital now.

Liam dared to look behind him; the gates weren’t opening and the gunshots were gone. The man wasn’t coming after him. Liam turned back to the road and focused on his breathing that was slowly becoming more and more shallow with each step. Tears were streaming down his face from the excruciating pain; his neck was hot with blood and his pants were soaked from the wound. Liam couldn’t tell where the bullet went; _I think it’s my calf._

This neighborhood was near the city and after a quick stop on the side of the road to make a temporary bandage to lessen the bleeding, Liam was able to make it to the nearest taxi and was rushed to the hospital. The taxi driver even gave Liam a pass and said he didn’t have to pay. “But a tip would be nice,” He smiled fake to Liam but he couldn’t even get paid before Liam was rushed away to surgery. 

At fifteen, Liam was shot in the leg for robbing someone’s home. This will not be the only time.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major writers block this chapter!! fight scenes can be hard for me to write sometimes so sorry if this chapter was a little :p BUT cute ziam moment :D zayn is so awkward with this new concept


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a filler chapter  
> sorry it's short

“I’m fucking beat, mate,” Liam yawned and walked towards the front doors of his complex, “Can’t wait to—hey, what are you doing?” Nyaz was pulling Liam away from the building, arm over his shoulder and face down.

“Nyaz.”

“Someone’s following us.” He said lowly, arm dropped from Liam’s shoulders now. 

“Wh…” Liam crinkled his brow and dared to look over his shoulder for a second. The street was barren at this point, only a taxi driving by every once in a while.

“Eyes forward,” Nyaz commanded. “Does your building have another entrance?”

“Yeah on the other side of this street,” Liam answered quickly. He really needed to lay down. The medication from earlier was starting to kick in and his head was feeling heavy. “Do you—” _yawn_ “—think it’s someone after _you?_ ”

Nyaz didn’t answered, his head was still looking down and his jaw was clenched. 

“You know, it’s probably a fan of The Hammer trying to put in his two cents,” Liam figured. “T.H. has a lot of fans; I’m sure to have thousands of death threats and knives at my door.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Nyaz muttered, finally giving a response. “Either way, we don’t want to give out where you live.”

“What are we gonna do?” Liam asked, desperately trying to hold back his incoming yawn.

“ _You_ won’t be doing anything,” Nyaz looked up and have Liam a crossed look. “You have a concussion.”

Liam was about to protest and say that he could still help, but Nyaz suddenly stopped, head back down and jaw clenched. 

“N—” Liam felt the wind get knocked out of him as Nyaz shoved him into the alley just as a gunshot rang off in the dead night. Nyaz was pressed against him, Liam’s back to a dumpster. A wave of nausea washed over Liam at the sudden movement; his head was swimming and his eyesight was blurred as he tried to regain his balance. 

“Fuck, sorry, Li,” Nyaz whispered and slowly led Liam to the ground. “Stay. Here. I’m gonna go deal with this. _Don’t_ move.” Liam didn’t reply, instead pressed his hand to his head, trying to ease the headache.

Zayn backed away from the alley and onto the sidewalk, giving Liam one last look before facing ahead towards the gunshot. His lax expression was just a mask—his ears were open and his eyes scanned the roads and buildings for any other people. He was very well aware of his surroundings, but his stroll and skateboard relaxed on the back of his head said otherwise. 

“Come out, come out wherever you are…” Zayn singsonged, still walking towards the gunman who has yet to step out of the alley he was hiding in. “I know you can hear me. The streets are quiet to hear a pin drop.” He raised a brow when he heard slight movement ahead of him and settled his arms down from off his head and retracted his skateboard, shoving his Coin in his pants’ pocket. _There’s more than one out here._

The sudden movement was not graceful: a man clumsily jumped out from his hiding spot in an alley before Zayn and pointed his gun. He was not far from Zayn, but he was far enough that Liam wouldn’t get hurt. That’s all that mattered.

“Where’s Payne Train?” The brute yelled at Zayn, who was still casually walking towards him. “Stay right there!” He blurted out and Zayn stopped, hands shoved in the pocket as usual.

“Where’s Payne Train?” The man asked again.

“Who’s _Payne Train?_ ” Zayn smirked, pulling the amnesia card.

“The bitch you were walkin’ with—that’s _who_ ,” The man spat out.

“I think you’re mistaken, mate.” Zayn shrugged. “Wasn’t walking with any ‘bitch.’”

“Lying scum! Pushed him right in that alley over there right when I shot.” The man looked like he questioned his own sentence, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. “Who are _you?_ ” 

Zayn simply smiled, not bothering to answer the soon-to-be-dead thug. 

“Who are you?!”

“Where are the others?” Zayn asked, ignoring the question thrown at him. “There are more of you. Are they all hiding? Seeing if fighting is worth it?”

The gunman looked taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered and flexed his arm even straighter at Zayn. “There’s no one else.”

“Are you some hired brute here to kill someone? Along with your other friends?” Zayn continued asking. _I would imagine an underground fighting fan would recognize me after a couple nights ago. Or maybe he just never paid attention. Drunk, maybe. It_ is _dark out, though. Whatever, it won’t matter in the end._ Zayn sighed out when the man didn’t answer. “C’mon.”

“ _Who_ are you?” The gunman demanded, even from here Zayn could see neck veins from stress. 

Zayn looked down, rubbing an eye from exhaustion. _Send a message._

From there, Zayn looked up and the hired thug or drunk (or whatever he was) dropped his gun in paralyzed fear. Zayn was like a blur as he walked forward, ghosts of himself trailing behind all with the same deadly expression on their faces. In a sudden blink of an eye, the brute fell with a snapped neck and Zayn stood behind him. The blurs of himself were gone and his face was back to his usual bored one. He looked down at the body in front of him. _Clean kill._

“Who’s next?” Zayn called out, sensing others around. “I know-w you’re out there,” Zayn teased, voice high pitched and singsongy. He’s always had fun scaring people, teasing whoever doubted his strength. They were all hiding, all probably mentally deciding whether to step out or run off. He preferred either, but he wouldn’t leave until it felt safe for Liam and him to go back to the complex. 

“Fine, I’ll come to you.” Zayn decided, and he started to walk towards where he felt the other presences,  returning his Ghost Walk.

An ability he learned when he was younger, Ghost Walk was used to deal with multiple enemies in a quick and hypnotic manner; however, Zayn mostly used it just to show off and scare people. Whenever he activated Ghost Walk, his pupils would blow out, the gold irises would disappear into black and give Zayn a somewhat demonic look. When he’d walk, he’d leave faint mimics of himself, or “ghosts”, trailing behind him. When he was ready, Zayn would push off and kill whoever he targeted before they could even blink and move on to the next person. 

Besides being effective physically, it was also mentally effective. Ghost Walk gave off a fearful “aura” as they called it, which explains why the gunman dropped his weapon so quickly. It was always able to stop someone in their tracks. Only reason he doesn’t use it all the time is because it takes a lot of energy; after tonight, Zayn could probably fall asleep for a good ten hours. 

Zayn crossed the street, not bothering to look for any traffic. Two people were hiding on the side of a building across from the complex. He heard a gun cock from the shadows before him, and two gunshots rang out. Zayn tilted his head to avoid one and the second shot was pointless—the man was dead just as the bullet imbedded itself in the building behind Zayn, neck snapped.

The third gunman stood a few feet away under a streetlamp, staring at what he just witnessed. “You a fan of The Hammer?” Zayn asked as he walked towards him.

“W-we work for him.” He answered, visibly shaking.

Zayn perked his ears. The others ran off. _Unsurprising._ “Work for him?” He continued.

“Yeah…We deal with drug deals, stake-outs, uh, killin’…people.” The hired thug explained hesitantly.

_Interesting._ Zayn warped to stand right in front of him, inches apart. He grabbed the gun from the hired man’s hand and tossed it aside and wrapped his hand around the thug’s neck. 

“Tell your boss that if he wants to deal with _Payne Train_ ,” Zayn wanted to laugh at the stage title, but he knew better to not use Liam’s actual name. “he’ll have to go through me.”

“Who are you?” The thug choked out, hands gripping around Zayn’s.

Zayn hesitated, a sudden urge to answer with his real identity. “Kilam,” He finally answered, pushing any thought about saying Malik. “Nyaz Kilam.”

 

Liam felt better, the wave of nausea passed and the spot against the dumpster was becoming quite comfy. The only thing keeping him up were the gunshots. He knew Nyaz was okay, but the deathly quietness of the street was still unnerving. 

“All good,” Nyaz popped up suddenly, a smile on his face like nothing even happened. “Let’s head back.” He walked over and helped Liam up, hands hovering over him in case he thought Liam would fall over.

“Thank you,” Liam yawned. “For…protecting me?” He questioned.

Nyaz only smirked and they walked out of the alley. “Who were they?” Liam pressed. “Were they after you?”

Nyaz laced his fingers on the back of his head and sighed out. “No, they were some thugs that work for Hammer.”

“Hired hands?”

“Yeah. Guess he’s pretty pissed you beat him.” Nyaz breathed out a laugh. “Nothing you need to worry about, though. It’s all taken care of.”

Liam pursed his lips at that, not completely buying it. “Whatever you say…” He said under his breath. It’s never really taken care of; no matter what Liam—or Nyaz—did, there was always someone at his back.

 

***

 

“I don’t like this, Yaser, I don’t.”

“I understand, but I’m doing this for the safety of Rulowe. And for the advancement of science.”

“Our _son_ is a goddamn monster now,” Trisha hissed. “What I just witnessed…I can’t support this, Yaser. I can’t.”

“Zain is not a monster! How dare you say that about our child,” Yaser snapped back. “He is still the same person, he just has different abilities no other human possesses.”

“What was that back there, Yaser? Because it was not our son.”

“You’re just traumatized from the aura he put off, it’s a common side effect.”

“My son shouldn’t be giving me _side effects!_ ” Trisha’s voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m _scared_ , Yaser. I’m scared of my ten year old son.”

“He would never hurt you,” Yaser almost whispered. “You know that.”

“Do I know that? What I saw…I couldn’t even imagine him actually killing a person when this began…but now…Yaser…”

“Zain is not some mindless robot now, Trisha! He knows who you are, he knows he’d never hurt you. For fuck’s sake you’re his _mother_ ; we are his parents!” Yaser’s voice was raising every after every word. Was he frustrated at his wife or was he scared just like him?

“What was that? Back there?” Trisha was quiet now.

“Ghost Walk,” Yaser explained with a normal tone. “It’s supposed to trigger fear from whoever’s witnessing it.”

“I really did think he was going to kill me.”

“Understandable. That’s the whole point of this ‘vibe’ he releases when the walk activates.”

“His eyes…”

“I know. He can’t control these things, Trish.”

“I’m just scared of what our son could become,” Trisha sounded like she was going to cry. “The men and women you work with have no empathy about having our baby go into war. If they had the chance they would turn him into a killing machine.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” Yaser forced a laugh. “You know I would never let them touch Zain. We’re just trying to understand his powers, see how we can expand on them and use them to our advantage.”

Trisha sighed. “Just…I didn’t think this honestly would ever happen.”

“Little shit, isn’t he?” Yaser laughed. “I knew leaving him around the house would be dangerous.”

Trisha half-laughed, shaking her head. “Just shows we’re raising a smart, observant boy.”

Zain moved away from the doorway, walking back to his own room. Tears were slowly rolling down his cheeks. His own mother thought he was a monster. _Mom is actually scared of me,_ Zain thought sadly. _She called me a monster._

Zain knew his mother didn’t mean it, like Dad said: it was all a side effect to Ghost Walk. He didn’t mean to scare Mom…it just happened. _I would never hurt Mom. How could she think that I would?_ Zain was crying harder. He was so frustrated—angry at himself for drinking that stupid chemical. Angry that he scared Mom. Angry that she’d think they would turn him into a ‘killing machine.’ Zain would never hurt his mother, his father, even the maids who took care of him. 

Zain wiped a tear that rolled down his cheek. He hated Ghost Walk. He’ll never use Ghost Walk again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with school starting soon updates won't be as frequent!! sorry it took me a while to update, writers block is shitty but i know what i'm doing for next chapter. you learned an ability of zayn's tho!! fun times


	10. Chapter 9

**_The_ ** _number_ **_nine_ ** _:_ **_the_ ** _number between eight and ten._

Zayn pursed his lips with his vague search results on The Nine; he skimmed through the links, all led to definitions of the number and math websites.

By now, Liam was fast asleep in his room. Zayn was adamant to let him do so, since he had a concussion, but Liam reassured that he was safe from any comatose or extra brain damage. Zayn himself was almost passed out, but he needed to take advantage of any time he had to research the hired terrorists, especially since he had a place to stay. After doing his own bit of hacking, Zayn was able to get on to a personal, incognito server on Liam’s laptop that allowed him to search the group without the fear someone would track him down. Once he exited the server, all history from it would be wiped along with any IP addresses tracing back to Liam’s apartment. Zayn rubbed his eye, making his glasses crooked before continuing. 

‘ _The Nine group’_ , he searched next, but that only led to more math websites and some gambling club in one of the casinos nearby. 

‘ _The Nine nomadic thief group’_ was after that, but only linked to some fantasy fiction book and movies that had to do with thieves. 

Zayn sighed and chewed on his lip; earlier he read through dozens of articles and police reports about his parents’ assassination, but all there was were heartbroken comments and unjustified theories. 

“Oh, duh,” Zayn muttered to himself and quickly typed out the coded URL into the search bar: _rupc23wve9.gov._ The screen was blank with a request to type in the password and Zayn did so; seconds later the screen changed to Rulowe’s Government Archives. This website was (clearly) top secret, holding information about political powers, terrorist groups, background history, and more. It was like a regular search engine, but held information shielded from the public. From there, Zayn searched for The Nine once more, and information he needed appeared. 

On the left side of the screen was a blank box, probably used for a picture of the subject, and below it was a list about them. Next to that was a summary on The Nine.

 

_The Nine, coming from Western Waters, is a nomadic thief group that travels across the countries committing acts of robbery, assassination, and treason. Later confirmed, The Nine were once apart of the fifteen human military weapons created by the men of Coran, called the Superhumans. After a mysterious explosion at the laboratory they were supposedly being trained at, the Superhumans escaped and disappeared. The laboratory was in ruins and there were no traces of any survivors. Years later, around the time Rulowe revealed their own human weapon, nine of the fifteen returned to public only to go against them; they revealed themselves as The Nine. They so far have not been caught and very little information about them is found._

 

_Superhumans…a bit corny,_ Zayn mocked, but that didn’t help suppress his fear of his enemy.

 

_The Nine have been claimed guilty of multiple political assassinations for the deaths of: Lukas Monroe (Man of the Council for Western Waters), Elizabeth Shrook (Colonel of Coran’s military), Marc Hinge (Senator of Coran), J.J. Pox (Head Weapon Engineer of Coran), Lyn Rider (Ambassador of Coran), Ronald Hoom (Speaker of the House, Man of the Council), Katrina Pin (Secretary of Coran), Samuel Harp (Lieutenant General of Coran’s military), and Sonia Bridge (Captain of Coran’s military). There have been multiple assassinations in other countries as well, however none of them have been confirmed on who committed them._

 

Zayn tensed at that. They could very much be referring to his parents. He’d have to research the assassination later on. He continued. 

 

_On October 23, 376, Western Waters’ military launched an ambush on the group after finding their current location. One original member died—Number 4. Only days later did the group counterattack with nine members. On July 16, 379, another attack took place, resulting in the death of Number 8. Once again, a counterattack was commenced with nine members. It has been theorized that The Nine can only function with nine members and that if one of them dies, they are replaced with (now) one of the four weapons that have not originated from The Nine._

 

_After multiple battles with the group, General Mar admits he and any witnesses/soldiers cannot identify what any of the members look like and what they can do, leaving each fight a mystery before and after for Western Waters. It has been theorized, however not confirmed, that a member has the ability to control the minds of others._

 

_Weapon specialists that have worked with the creator of the fifteen (rumored to be J.J. Pox but never confirmed) revealed that you are able to detect one of the human weapons by a special barcode on their bodies; where the barcode is varies on each person. Because of the infamous barcode, the symbol is banned from Western Waters in displays of body art (tattoos). They had no information on the abilities the fifteen subjects possessed. Whoever did was disintegrated in the explosion of their laboratory._

 

Zayn read over the list below the empty picture box.

 

**_Name:_ ** _The Nine_

**_Location:_ ** _Coran, Western Waters_

**_History:_ ** _Unknown*_

**_Threat Level:_ ** _High**_

**_Committed Acts:_ ** _terrorism, treason, robbery, political assassination_

**_Being:_ ** _Supernatural***, military weapon_

 

_*: Unknown when created/born. Unknown who created/birthed._

_**: Threat levels are high when they cross over Eastern Waters._

_***: Displays of inhuman abilities._

 

Zayn exhaled out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Like Zayn, The Nine were weapons of war, which only made him more uneasy of who he would have to deal with. They were not a group that was _just_ dangerous to the public, they were dangerous to Zayn. _Supernatural abilities_ , Zayn tried to think of what these men and women could possibly have for powers. He had to watch out for nine—plus the other four that were still out there, waiting to be a new leg. 

He skimmed through the biography again and once more as if he missed something, but there was nothing written between the lines. However, this was a start—he had at least _some_ sort of information on The Nine. Zayn took a particular mental note at one of the member’s possible ability of mind control, as well as the symbolism they all have. Knowing how to distinguish a member is useful, but almost pointless. The barcodes are anywhere on the body, and Zayn wasn’t planning on getting close with a member to find it. _If anyone displays superhuman abilities, I’ll know who they are._

Having collected all the information he got on the page, Zayn curiously decided to look himself up. ‘ _Zain Malik’._ In the same format as the last page, a picture of himself when he was twelve was on the side of the screen. He remembered taking that for his official ID since he was working for Rulowe as a human weapon. 

 

**_Name:_ ** _Zain Javadd Malik_

**_Location:_ ** _Rulowe, Eastern Waters_

**_History:_ ** _January 12, 363 —; son of Yaser Malik, Trisha Brannan-Malik_

**_Threat Level:_ ** _High_

**_Committed Acts:_ ** _-_

**_Being:_ ** _Supernatural*, military weapon_

 

_*: Displays of inhuman abilities._

 

Zayn was considered alive. He knew this, but he secretly hoped that the search was given up on. If Zayn was considered dead, it would have been announced, and Rulowe would have a public funeral for it. Were they still looking for him? The frenzy died down immensely over the years, he hasn’t heard _anything_ from _anybody_ about Rulowe still being in pursuit. But everything’s always a secret behind closed doors—it was something he experienced first hand. 

 

_Zain Malik, born on January 12, 363, is the son of Yaser Malik (Head Weapon Engineer of Rulowe) and Trisha Brannan-Malik (Ambassador of Rulowe). At the age of ten, under mysterious circumstances, Zain developed inhuman abilities. During the time of war between Rulowe and Maceon, Yaser Malik expanded on Zain’s supernatural abilities and turned him into a human weapon of Rulowe—similar to the engineers of Coran. Between the ages of ten and twelve, Zain worked as a specialized assassin for Rulowe, and has been known for deaths of major military leaders of Maceon such as: Colonel Raaf, Major General Beck, First Lieutenant Talem, Major Carn, and Chief Officer Lock._

 

Zayn remembered them all very well. 

 

_Zain’s abilities were never revealed when they were discovered. When questioned about them, Yaser Malik stated: “I have no intent of revealing my son’s capabilities. What he can do is kept secret for the safety of Rulowe and himself.”With that being said, Zain was never placed on direct battlefield; the majority of his jobs were all off field, but just as dangerous. His major assassinations were singlehandedly commenced in military camps and bunkers and left no survivors._

 

_On November 3, 372, Rulowe’s Capitol City was under amidst a terrorist attack during Ambassador Brannan-Malik’s public speech, which included multiple government authorities—her husband being one of them. The attack resulted in the death of Trisha Brannan-Malik and Yaser Malik. On the same day Zain, age twelve, disappeared. The terrorists who committed the political assassination were never found, however the attack was ultimately pinned on Maceon. The war between the two countries lasted over ten years; in the end, the Council of Eastern Waters extinguished the war after a Man of the Council was almost killed in a missile launch in Maceon’s Capitol City from Rulowe._

 

_It has been theorized that the terrorists who killed the parents of the Malik family, kidnapped Zain Malik. There has been no confirmation of that happening. There has also been no evidence on Zain’s body being found. Ultimately, Rulowe still has him on watch._

 

Zayn chewed on his thumb, rereading his biography over and over again. _I’ve been on the frontline before—most annoying time of my life._ Zayn rolled his eyes when he remembered everyone getting in his way. The sound of endless machine guns and rifles almost blew out his eardrums; he got particularly bloody that day and had to use Ghost Ring the majority of the fight. After almost passing out from overestimating his stamina, Yaser kept him off the field. 

Zayn hasn’t been back home since he left and he didn’t plan on coming back anytime soon. He heard they built a bigger border patrol and city watch. Every entrance to a city or the country required ID and a special pass to get in. Almost like a club but for tourists and families. It was different there too; Zayn couldn’t use Nyaz Kilam or Javadd or really any sort of identity that he’s used throughout his life in Rulowe. They’d figure him out immediately. What would they do to him? Zayn didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t want one. Zayn got chills from the idea of being back under military control. His war days were over—after figuring out who hired The Nine and killing them (plus the group themselves), he planned to hide off in some island in the middle of nowhere. 

From there, Zayn searched November 3, 372; his results were he and his family’s pages along with one about the attack itself. He clicked it.

The picture was his mother speaking in front of the Capitol Building of the city. Behind her was his dad, the leader of the country, Grant Rolland, Phillip DeMauge, and a few other officials Zayn didn’t recognize. The first paragraph was the same from Zayn’s biography with some added information like what Trisha’s speech was about (the war between Maceon and Rulowe) and where Zayn was during the assassination (home) and who attended the speech.

 

_The assassination was clearly specifically targeted towards on the Malik’s: they were the only ones who were attacked that day, even with Rulowe’s leader sitting right behind Trisha. With the disappearance of their son just minutes after the murder, it was decided that whoever invaded Rulowe had their eyes set on the family._

 

_The autopsy report on both Yaser and Trisha’s bodies stated: “Both were shot with same gun and bullet type right through the brain. The gun and bullet are unrecognizable; whatever metal the bullet is made out of is either extremely rare or alchemized to the point what it’s made out of is irredeemable. The gun type is just as unconfirmed as the bullet, theorizing that the gun is custom made. The bullet’s impact resulted in an immediate death as it went straight through the middle of the craniums.”_

 

_Further investigation also concluded that it was more than one person who was apart of the murder. Between the secret service scattered throughout the streets and buildings and the cameras at every angle of the area, it would be impossible for one person to do everything in the short time frame they had. All cameras were dislodged and every guard was murdered, resulting in over fifty days that day. Police deducted that at least ten people were associated in the group._

 

Zayn drew blood from chewing on thumb so hard as he read the information. The combination of nervousness and anger was boiling at the pit of his stomach as he read everything over and over again like he was paranoid he missed something. He needed everything he could get. He glanced at the time at the corner of the screen; it was almost five in the morning. 

“Oh shit,” Zayn whispered hoarsely to himself and raised his hips to grab his cellphone from his pocket. He forgot to mention to Liam he talked to Louis about the videos and security camera. There was still no notification from Louis. He sighed out of tired frustration and tossed his phone on the other end of the couch. _Be patient._

After that, Zayn tiredly looked for any spread of his and Liam’s fight. So far no news website posted about it, relieving some of the stress. He was still okay, but for how much longer? By the time he and Liam arrived at Louis’, the video was at three million views. Zayn wanted to worry so, so bad but his bed was calling his name and his eyes were getting heavier by the second. Ghost Walk took some energy from him; by now, Zayn could sleep for a full 24 hours. He hastily exited out of the private server and closed the laptop, encasing him in complete darkness. He trudged down the hall and flopped onto his bed—clothes still completely on—falling asleep instantly. 

 

_Bang, bang, bang._ Zayn shifted on the bed at the dull noise in his ear.

_Bang, bang, bang._ More shifting. It sounded like someone was knocking on the door. Very loudly.

_Bang, bang, bang._ He let out a sigh through his nose and perked his ears at the sound.

_Bang, bang, bang._ Someone was very persistent. _What time is it?_ _Why did I fall asleep in my jeans?_ He was a bit uncomfortable in them.

_Bang, bang, bang._ Liam clearly wasn’t up. _I should check on him._ Zayn made no effort to move.

_Bang, bang, bang._ Zayn let out an angry sigh and forced his eyes open. _Who the fuck is it?_ Zayn shoved himself out of bed and glanced at the bedside alarm clock as he walked out. 7 a.m. _Two fuckin’ hours of sleep._ Even with a closed bedroom door he could hearLiam snoring, saving Zayn the trouble to check and see if he was dead. 

He stomped towards the door, rubbing his eyes into focus. The knocking stopped just as Zayn peered through the peephole—no one was there.“What fucks would do…” Zayn didn’t even bother finishing his sentence and he turned back to walk back to his room. 

_Bang, bang, bang._ Zayn froze in his place and slowly looked over his shoulder at the door. 

_Bang, bang, bang._ He faced the door again and stepped forward.

_Bang, bang, bang._ Zayn slowly undid the chain lock from the door, careful not to make any noise.

_Bang, bang, bang._ Zayn gripped on the knob’s lock. Whatever bullshit this was, Zayn was almost wide awake from it. He peered through the peephole again only to see the same beige wall across the door. He unlocked the door anyway and slowly opened it. Someone was here. Zayn opened the door all the way and stood stiffly at the doorway, eyes forcibly wide and jaw clenched.  

The quick blur in the corner of his eye came into focus as he saw a steel bat come flying towards his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's short but you know i love cliffhangers :) ANYWAY this was a bit of an information chapter for you. next update might take a while cause school's starting for me this monday. but it'll be an action chapter. i'll figure out a schedule on when i'll post. it'll most likely be every saturday. we'll see tho


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i need to stop writing at 2 am i'm dead

Zayn loves sleep. He could sleep for days, weeks maybe. Sometimes when he was younger and had to stay overnight at military bases, he couldn’t even wake up to the sounds of bombs and gunshots. It took a lot to wake him up. But the crack of a steel bat against his head while he was half awake was enough to bring him straight to his senses. 

Zayn stumbled back and gripped the side of his head that was hit but he didn’t have any time to recover when he was tackled to the floor, back of his head slamming against the hardwood and a heavy body crushing his lungs. 

Shaking his head from the temporary dizziness, Zayn looked at whoever was pressing his body to the floor: he was _ginormous,_ probably two times bigger than Zayn—hell, the guy’s left leg was probably half his size. His face held an angry scowl with a few scars tracing along his mouth and jaw. Where was the bat?

Zayn heard the door slam and another pair of footsteps; he saw a man equally as big as his partner walk past down the hall. _Liam._

Conjuring up any strength and energy he had, Zayn gripped the tackler’s arm that was coming in to punch Zayn and shoved him off. Air never tasted so good when the weight was off his torso. He stepped away from the tackler and frantically wasted his energy to warp in front of the batman, who was just in front of Liam’s door.

“The f—” The batman was cut off as Zayn shoved him back, the force making him tumble all the way back to the living room next to his partner. Liam was still snoring. Zayn stormed over to the two invaders who were scrambling up and pulling out their guns. The bat had skidded away from either of them. Zayn needed to disarm them before they shot or else the whole building would be alarmed and Liam would wake up and this attack would be all over the news.  

In quick succession, Zayn warped to the bat and then to the two hitmen. Before they could even shoot, he cracked the bat against the former bat owner’s head, the sound of bone breaking echoed in his ears and the second man fell back when he partner flew back on him. One pistol flopped on the couch and one skidded across the floor; the one on the couch was still reachable to them. 

The former batman was either dead or passed out—his body was limp as Zayn’s tackler shoved him off and charged at Zayn head on with a pocketknife in his hand. He jumped back when the brute swung at him. Zayn’s head was still throbbing from the previous attacks but he needed to take care of this. He was 100% positive these where the Hammer’s men, but how did they work so quickly? Zayn was positive the hitmen from last night had ran off. _Were they in the building the whole time?_  

Zayn didn’t have time to process anything and swung the bat against the invader’s arm as hard as he could. He was running on low stamina and his headache was becoming unbearable. The steel bat didn’t cause any head bleeding, but he could only take so much head damage. The hit was hard enough for the tackler to lose his balance, but Zayn couldn’t catch a break anyway—the partner Zayn thought he knocked out was standing to his feet, head in his hands and blood pooling over his open jacket and shirt. 

Zayn scowled, looking between the now standing men in Liam’s apartment. Who were these people? He pointed the bat at the dizzied man next to the fallen lamp, “You should’ve stayed down.” With that, the man looked up with a dangerous look in his eyes and wiped the blood that was running down his lips. If Zayn wasn’t so damn tired and annoyed, he might’ve been a little freaked at the sight. He shoved the tackler down completely as he walked by, a dull _thump_ and moan followed shortly after. Zayn might’ve broken the man’s arm with the amount of force. 

The hitman’s head _looked_ damaged, he could see a dent where the bat contacted. Something was not right about this—he should be dead. Zayn grabbed the bat at either ends and pressed it against the invader’s throat, shoving him back against the wall. The previous batman coughed out a shallow breath and grabbed onto the bat, face turning redder by the second. “I should’ve killed you all last night,” Zayn whispered, his pupils blowing out as he spoke. “I let you go with a warning. Big fuckin’ mistake.” The man was almost in a hypnotic shock, trying to look away from the eyes before him. Zayn stepped closer and pressed the bat harder. “You won’t even be alive to tell your boss the message I’ll be giving.”

Zayn felt a grip on the back of his shirtand he was pulled back, the bat and man dropping to the floor. The partner punched Zayn straight at his nose and another at his groin, the force of the attack caused him to stumble back towards the kitchen bar. _Fuck_ , Zayn suppressed the whimper at the back of his throat as he pressed a hand to his groin. _That’s gonna leave a mark._

The cool metal of the pocketknife was quickly brought to his neck and Zayn’s head was forced to look up when the tackler had his other grip in his hair. “Payne’s little bodyguard, huh?” He finally spoke, unsurprising smell of cigarettes in his breath. “Think you’re tough, eh? You’re just some tiny prick, fighting with the wrong people.”

Zayn narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw, waiting for an opportunity to take advantage of his position. His partner was still gasping for breath. Liam was still snoring. 

“Who are you people?” Zayn whispered.

“You know,”

“Your boss can’t even do his own dirty work.”

“That’s why he has _us,_ ” The man tightened his grip on Zayn’s hair. _Ow._

“Is your boss this bitter over a loss that he sends a bunch of hitmen to kill off competition?”

“You don’t know shit, you bitch,” The pocketknife was close to cutting. “I will fucking kill you.”

Zayn looked down momentarily. He was so tired, so out of energy. _I want to sleep. I need to protect Liam. I need to kill them now._ When he looked back up his pupils were dilated and staring directly into the hitman’s. The room felt like a black hole, there was nothing around them but that dangerous aura he was gifted with. The grip on his hair was loosened, the knife moved away. 

“You really think you can kill me,” Zayn laughed, his humorless chuckle echoing in this deadly void. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.” He could see the hitman was trying to back away but his legs were stuck in his place, trembling with fear. And with that, Zayn grabbed the man’s head and twisted, killing him immediately. His more maniacal side would’ve let him suffer, but Zayn was pushing himself. He was way over the limit on energy. He stepped over the fallen enemy and walked over to the other hitman who was watching this all in paralyzed fear. Zayn crouched down to his level and grabbed the man’s face, lips forcibly pursed and cheeks squished. 

“No one will touch Liam,” Zayn barely whispered, his voice lost to the painfully loud quietness of this voided world. “Ever,” _Twist. Snap. Thud._

Zayn closed his eyes and he felt the apartment come back to his senses. Liam was snoring. Liam was safe. Zayn fell back, falling asleep in between the hitmen he killed. 

 

***

 

“The Void, eh? Seems a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Trust me, it’s exactly what you see.” 

“How so?” 

“Well,” the man sighed and typed up something on the monitor. “Test Subjects One through Five all witnessed being stuck in some black hole with nothing but Zain and his aura. Room was gone, chairs, cameras…everything. Just them and the void.”

“Interesting.” Yaser muttered and glanced at the responses his fellow scientist pulled up. “What are Zain’s energy levels after using it?”

“Below the average drop. It takes up quite a bit, more than Multiplication actually.”

“Makes sense. I mean, he’s eradicating the current environment and placing himself and his targets in some inescapable zone.”

“Zain has passed out twice while doing it.”

Yaser tensed at that—Zain’s health was his priority. “Is he okay?”

“Perfectly fine, sir. He slept a whole 24 hours after the fifth conduction.”

“24 hours?” Yaser choked out a laugh. “Well, we’ll keep it at minimal use. What did you call it again?”

“The Void.”

“The Void…” Yaser repeated under his breath. “It fits. I’d love to experience it one day.” Yaser tried to get a firsthand experience with his son’s abilities as much as he could. It was his chemical that caused this, he’d like to know what it’d done personally. 

“Highly unlikely, sir. Every subject has become mentally unstable after Zain used the Void on them.”

Yaser frowned at that. “What have you done with the subjects?”

“They’re in the Psych Ward, sir.”

“I should visit them. When is Zain’s next test?”

“Tomorrow. He’s with Wolf right now.” 

“Alright,” Yaser gave his partner a firm hand and walked off. “The Void…”

 

***

 

“What…the fuck…” Liam stared blankly at the mess in front of him. His lamp was on the floor, his coffee table had a dent in it, and his floor was covered in blood. Also, Nyaz and two random men were lying on the floor. A steel bat covered in blood was kicked onto his white fur rug, a gun was on the couch, a pocketknife next to one of the bodies. “How did I sleep through this?”

Liam walked over to Nyaz sleeping peacefully with a blood speckled face. “I…Uh…” Liam looked around the room and back at Nyaz. _Do I wake him up?_ He looked so peaceful and so drained. He looked paler than usual and the dark circles under his eyes were almost concerning. A sudden wave a guilt washed over Liam. _I was sleeping my ass off while Nyaz was out here dealing with a bunch of thugs. I should’ve been up to help, dammit._ Liam wanted to slap himself for this. _Not like he’d let me fight anyway with this bloody concussion._

Liam sighed and bent down, carefully scooping Nyaz off the bloody floor and walked them towards the guest room. Liam did his best to ignore the hot blood that was on the back of Nyaz’s shirt and focused more on the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was alive. That’s all that mattered. Liam shuffled into the room and glanced down at the bloody shirt. _I don’t want this ruining the comforter._ Liam gently sat Nyaz on the bed and slowly peeled off his shirt, one hand on the bottom of his back and the other working to roll it up without getting blood on anything. Nyaz was hunched forward, still fast asleep with smooth features and his skin was damp with sweat and blood. Liam stopped for a moment to ignore another flash of guilt and continued pulling Nyaz’s arm out of the sleeve. He moved his hand from Nyaz’s back to his shoulder and then towards the side of his neck as he pulled the t-shirt off. Liam blushed at the small touches, embarrassed over his soft skin and slowly set Nyaz down on the bed, the bloodied shirt on Liam’s shoulder. 

Liam took one last look at Nyaz and a quick glance at his torso, double checking for a heartbeat, before walking out and closing the door behind him. “Thank you,” He breathed out and leaned back against the door. _If Nyaz wasn’t here…_ Liam shivered at that and looked over at the one dead body he could see from his position. They’re getting closer. How they found this place was unknown to Liam, and what Liam was going to do with these bodies was just as big of a mystery. He was on the fourth floor. It was midday. Nyaz was dead asleep. Liam was clueless. Nyaz saved his life again. Liam was thankful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so short and i hate it but i'm so brain dead ;p cute ziam moment tho so  
> second week of school was gross but i have a four day weekend. maybe i'll update tomorrow or monday. we'll see.


	12. Chapter 11

Liam looked between the two dead bodies in his living room, coffee in one hand and the other leaning against the counter. The room wafted of blood and air freshener and roast, not the most pleasing combination but something Liam has smelled before—just never in his own home. He took a sip, eyes locked on the body slumped by his broken lamp and bloody bat nearby. Blood was stained on the hardwood floor as well as the rug underneath the dented coffee table. The one fallen by the door closest to him wasn’t as messy, but Liam was still very concerned and confused on how he was going to get rid of these bodies. He was on the fourth floor, it was midday, and Nyaz was knocked out. Liam took another sip. He never had to deal with dead bodies in his home but pure instinct told him Nyaz was probably a veteran in getting rid of corpses—the only problem was he was asleep. Like, _really_ asleep. It’s been a couple hours since Liam took Nyaz to bed and after a quick checkup, Liam was 99% sure Nyaz wasn’t even alive. His breath was so subtle, and Liam felt like he was carrying deadweight when he tried moving Nyaz’s legs back onto the bed when they were hanging off the edge. He was in some sort of hibernation, shut down mode. Liam wasn’t sure at all when Nyaz would wake up, so dealing with these bodies would be all him. 

Another sip. The stains. How easy is getting blood stains out? His poor rug was probably long from saving, it was white for god’s sake. _One step at a time, Liam. First the bodies._ He sighed out and stared at the bodies some more. Liam was sort of concerned with how easily he was taking two bloody, twisted bodies in his own living room. These are the third deaths Liam has witnessed since Nyaz came around and Liam was positive he’d go crazy after being apart of so much violence in a short period of time. He figured at this point he was sort of used to it; Liam’s childhood and early adulthood wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. 

Liam’s eyes darted to the couch when he heard dull vibrating coming from that direction. He set down his coffee and walked around the coffee table and blood stains towards the noise. His eyes glanced nervously at the pistol next to what he guessed to be Nyaz’s phone, anxious that the gun would come alive and kill him right there. Liam picked up the phone that was snuggled between the cushions. 

_L. Tom._ was on the screen. “Louis?” Liam muttered and his thumb wavered over the screen, not sure if he should answer. This was Nyaz’s phone, but Liam was also stuck in this mess that involves Louis. He accepted the call. “Louis?” Liam repeated, this time to the caller himself.

“L-Liam? Did I call your phone by mistake?”

Liam furrowed his brows at that, “No…This is Nyaz’s phone. He’s sleeping right now after having a bit of, uh, mishap.”

“Mishap, eh?” Louis muttered on the other side. “That explains the two blokes in the lobby last night. Well, anyway—can you and Nyaz come over today? I have some news on your video problem and I’d rather say it in person rather over the phone.”

“Yeah, I mean,” Liam glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Nyaz’s room. “Kilam is like, _really_ asleep. I don’t know how long he’ll be under so is it cool if I just go myself?”

“No problem, mate. Just head over whenever.”

“Alright, thanks Louis.” Liam was about to hang up but brought the phone quickly back to his ear. “Wait! How did you see the two guys at my complex?”

“I’ll just explain it when you’re over.” And he hung up after that. Liam set Nyaz’s phone on the arm rest and chewed on his nail nervously. Updates on the videos could be amazingly good or terribly bad. It was two o’ clock right now and the four o’clock news was soon—there could be a chance the video has reached the news’ radar depending on what Louis’ situation was. Liam rushed to his room to get dressed; Louis was the priority right now. 

 

***

 

“Alright everyone shut up, shut up. Let’s welcome our newest recruit to the Clan—Liam Payne.” 

His new boss’ hand clapped Liam’s back roughly as he introduced him to the men and women before him.

“Liam _Payne?_ Like, Geoff’s kid?” One man asked over the mutters of ‘hello’ and ‘welcome.’

“Uh,” Liam cleared his throat from the imaginary cough. “Yeah. That’s…that’s my dad.”

He cackled and raised a brow, “I had no idea Geoffy had a thief for a kid. Like father, like son am I right?”

“Fuck off,” Liam hissed and narrowed his eyes. It’s not like his father _asked_ to live like this.

“Alright, calm down!” Logan, the boss of the group interrupted and pointed at Liam and the asshole sitting calmly across from them. “Hutch, leave him alone. Liam, let’s not make enemies on the first day, yeah? We’re all here to make money and make sure our clients are doing the same.”

“Does Geoff know you’re in the Clan now?” Liam looked over at a woman nearby.

“Yeah, he’s not exactly thrilled about it but…y’know.” Liam shrugged and chuckled awkwardly. The woman just smiled kindly and nodded.

“Geoff’s an in demand client, and quite frankly I think Liam is an in demand thief. He’ll fit right well with us and make us a lot of money doing so.” Logan praised.

“Wait—you’re the kid who got shot in the leg or something, right?” Another man asked further down the small crowd. 

“Yeah,” Liam laughed nervously again. “Went straight through my calf.”

“ _Shiiiiit_ ,” The man hissed like he was in pain himself. “Geoff was _so_ pissed when he got the call from the hospital.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t like what I’m doing with my life, like, at all.” 

“Well, no one wants their kid to become a thief. ‘specially for the black market. Jobs get dangerous here in the Clan, you see?” Hutch explained. “These aren’t just house runs like old times.”

“I understand that,” Liam nodded shortly. “I’m just here trying to help my parents financially. Things aren’t exactly easy down here.”

“Trust me, we know.” Hutch agreed and the thieves in the room all nodded. “Both your parents are part of some illegal shit and with the trouble we get down here I can see how life is more than rough for a kid like you.”

“My dad can only make so much money on the black market. And between paying the bills and paying you guys…My mom’s doing alright, though. She’s been getting a lot of patients lately.”

“Yeah, the piece of shit cops are more violent than usual.” A woman spat out. “They’ve taken a sudden interest to ‘ _Thieves Town’_ ever since the museum up north got one of its’ works stolen. The rich _love_ their art.”

“Bart sold the portrait,” Logan snickered. “Now the cops have amped up their security.” 

“I guess security also means beating some hungry men for taking some bread or whatever cliche type shit happening around here.” Hutch said bitterly. 

“I’m just glad to be here,” Liam smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “The police are no problem to me.”

“That’s what we like to hear!” Logan clapped his back again. “We’ll get you settled in and all that and then you’ll start your first run.”

“Sounds good,” Liam smiled excitedly and Logan dismissed the group before leading him to his office. Liam was the youngest member to be initiated in the Clan that day and began his next few years working side-by-side with the black market and people just like him—just trying to get by.

 

***

 

“Come on in,” Louis ushered him through the door and closed it quickly. “Glad you could make it, yadda yadda yadda. So! Take a seat, Payne.” Louis shuffled to his roller chair in front of his monitors, which were thankfully live and bright versus last time he saw them. Liam sank into the loveseat beside him and Louis folding his hands in front of his mouth, staring at Liam like he was waiting for _him_ to talk first.

“So.” Liam started.

“So.”

“The video.” He pushed.

“Right! Well,” Louis turned towards the monitors and pulled up a page of random letters and numbers on the middle monitor. “I’m still locked out from _most_ videos and screenshots of your fight, but I’ve been able to determine that this is _not_ the work of the police.”

“It’s not?” Liam furrowed his brows and looked between the monitor and Louis. He couldn’t tell if he should be relieved or worried. “Who is then?”

“ _That_ I don’t know,” Louis sighed. “I’ve been blocked by police before but their defense is never this hardcore or impossible. However, I’ve been able to bypass some of their security, the only problem is this hack puts passwords at, like, every turn and they’re very case sensitive. I only get a few tries before it locks me out of my monitors completely.”

“Do you think you can find an IP address?”

“Yeah, but like I said, there are passwords everywhere. Getting one will take some time and a lot of trial and error.”

“Who do you think this is?” Liam asked, hoping Louis had some sort of idea or lead that could maybe lead Liam and Nyaz in some direction.

Louis hummed and drummed his fingers against the desk in thought. “I wanna say someone bigger than the police, but this could also be some sad sack like me behind this annoying mess.”

“So no idea?”

“No idea.” Louis admitted. 

“Do you need…any help? Like getting passwords and all that.”

“Nah, it’s all happening on these boys and gals here.” Louis shook his mouse and swiveled his chair to completely face Liam. “Now, about my knowing on your intrusion last night—Nyaz was able to contact me the other night and he gave me the job to monitor your complex’s security cameras. I have to basically delete and replace footage of him being seen with you, as well as just keeping an eye on the place in general.”

“Didn’t do a particularly good job on the second part.” Liam narrowed his eyes and Louis raised his hands in defense.

“Nyaz’s little quarrel happened around seven and I am _not_ awake that early. How did that work out, by the way.” Louis asked as he faced the monitors, quickly pulling up multiple screens of Liam’s complex.

“Uh, well, I have two dead bodies in my living room and have no idea what to do with them.” Liam answered bluntly.

“You got bodies to get rid of?” Louis looked over at him.

“Yeah, I don’t know what to do, though.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you had the pleasure misfortune to meet me,” Louis smirked and pushed his chair to the wall next to him. He beat his fist against it like he was knocking, “Aye, Ricky! Come over; you got a customer. Door’s unlocked.” 

A minute later the door opened and a large man walked through, closing the door behind him. “You called?”

“Liam, Ricky. Ricky, Liam.” Louis gestured between them and pointed to the loveseat next to Liam. Ricky obliged and took a seat.

“So—Hey, wait, you’re Payne Train!” Ricky gaped when he was sitting comfortably. “You fuck made me lose a thousand bucks!

Liam heard Louis cackle and Liam blushed. “Sorry?” He tried.

“You’re lucky I’m not some asshole who holds grudges,” Ricky crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. “The Hammer was everyone’s first choice that fight.”

“So it seems.” Liam murmured.

“So, you need some help with _moving?_ ” Ricky asked, putting extra emphasis on moving.

“Yeah, uh, my friend killed a couple guys in my apartment and I don’t really know what to do.

“What a shitty friend,” Ricky laughed. “How many bodies?”

“He was protecting me,” Liam defended instead of answering the question. “Hammer’s after me for kicking him out of the tournament.”

“How many bodies?” Ricky asked again, blatantly ignoring Liam’s statement.

“Two.” He finally answered.

“How old are these bodies?”

“I don’t know, a few hours? Eight?”

“And what floor are you on? In your complex.”

“Fourth.”

Ricky opened his eyes but kept his eyes on the ceiling. “Easy. We’ll take care of it right away.”

“Do you know how to get rid of blood stains?” Liam asked.

“We can clean, too.” Ricky answered and Liam sighed out.

“Ricky here has a crime cleanup business,” Louis explained with his eyes on the monitors and keys clacking under him. “Moe’s Movers, they’re called. Best and probably the only few in the business. We do a lot of partner jobs.” 

“Oh, cool.” Liam replied, unsure how to respond. “I’ve never really had to deal with moving bodies. Not alone, at least. Or recently.”

“You won’t have to worry about anything,” Ricky assured. “My boys and I take care of cleaning and moving. And it’s all under private policy. Don’t ask, don’t tell type business.”

“Works for me. Why Moe though?”

“It’s an alias. I don’t want to be caught as Ricky the Guy Who Gets Rid of Corpses for a Living.”

“So he’ll be caught as Moe the Guy Who Gets Rid of Corpses for a Living instead.” Louis mocked childishly and Ricky gave him the sign to shove it.

“Oh shit,” Louis suddenly gasped. “Yo, Liam, look at this.” Louis pulled up a news page on the middle monitor and Liam moved from his seat to stand behind Louis.

_Underground Fighting Video Leaked, Revealing Fighter of Inhumane Abilities._

“Shit,” Liam whispered and Louis scrolled down to the article.

_Underground fighting is no secret to Utopia and recently a video of such leaked to the public and has been spreading around social media sights like wildfire? Why, you may ask? The video below shows a man—unrecognizable from the quality—moving at an inhuman speed that may be classified as a ‘threat’ to the general public. We do not know who either of the fighters are in this video, but we do know that the police will be on this case to not only shut down the source of illegal fighting, but also capture the ‘human’ with such powers. His incredible speed adding with his strength has been proven to be dangerous and who or whatever this is must be taken in quickly._

Liam rubbed his face with one hand read the article over and over again.

“They know,” Louis whispered.

“They know.” Liam repeated. _They fucking know_. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nyaz is hibernation. the video has leaked even further. hammer is still out there. fucking rip


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't proofread so sorry if there are any errors

“That’s pretty bad.”

“Yeah, no _shit_ , Richard.” Louis snapped and leaned closer to the monitor. “Uh, okay, well they’re saying the police are on it and I haven’t seen anything reported.” He looked up at Liam, who was standing with a hand over his mouth.

“Louis, this is the fucking _U Report._ They’re never wrong.” Liam muttered through his hand. Louis stared up at him nervously before swiftly turning back and typing furiously onto another screen.

“So, about that moving job—”

“ _Richard_ , shut the fuck up,” Louis interrupted and Liam looked down to Ricky giving evil eye and lounging back on the loveseat. 

“Uh huh, mhm. Yep. Shit.” Louis highlighted a sentence from what Liam guessed to be a police report. It was about the search for Nyaz. “It…can’t be the police though. I mean, clearly it’s not that hard for me to hack into their system since I just did it in thirty seconds flat—not the point—but, this means you have two groups of people coming for you guys. Or, Nyaz, at least.”

“I’m surprised the video moved so quickly,” Liam laced his fingers behind his head. “ _U Report_ doesn’t usually post about pop culture or whatever’s trending.”

“Well, it says here on this report the case was filed…this morning…And this article was posted…only ten minutes ago. So, chances are the police are informing certain platforms and had them post this.”

“Can you delete it?”

Louis rolled his eyes and swiveled back to the monitors. Moments later: “Done. The cops will still be on your ass and the four o’clock news is on in half an hour. _This_ won’t really make a difference.” Louis widened his eyes suddenly. “Shit, Marcus.” He jumped out of the seat and started to pat his pockets.

“Shit, Nyaz.” Liam copied and pulled his phone out his back pocket. “Is he even awake? Oh my g—”

“Marcus! Bad news, boss.Yeah. So. The cops. They’re investigating Nyaz…Yeah, so that means they’ll be looking for underground arenas…Uh huh…Yeah…Hey, don’t get angry at me! There’s someone out there that literally locked me out of getting rid of all videos and pictures. Every time I try to get in…Exactly. They’ve shut down my computers for hours. Yes, I’ll keep you updated. Mhm. I’ll tell him.” Louis glanced at Liam before hanging up the phone. 

“What’d he say?”

“Marcus is having a mandatory meeting at the Clam for all fighters. And he told you to bring Kilam along. He needs to talk to him as well.”

“Two hours,” Liam repeated, clutching his phone. _Will Nyaz be awake by then? He was so deep in sleep, it looked like he wouldn’t wake up for another five hours._

“Yeah, I’ll try and get him—”

“ _Nope._ Marcus said you needed to bring him along.”

Liam opened his mouth to argue, but realized he really had no idea how to explain Nyaz’s condition. In all honesty, Liam didn’t even understand Nyaz’s condition. All he knew was that Nyaz fought to the death and has been in hibernation since. _When he wakes up I’ll have him explain it to me_ , Liam decided consciously. 

“Uh, okay, yeah. Right.” Liam looked over at Ricky who was biting his nails, still sunken in the loveseat. “Can you get started on the cleanup today?”

Ricky lowered his hand and nodded feverishly. “Oh yeah. I’ll get my crew setup now.” He pushed himself out of the chair and shuffled by, giving Louis a slap on the back of the head on the way out. 

Liam sighed out and rubbed his hands of his face. He didn’t know how Nyaz was going to react—he was trying to avoid as much exploitation as possible. 

“What are we gonna do?” Liam bursted out, voice cracking just slightly. He was so stressed—he didn’t want to get caught. Go to jail. Lose his job. His home. Nyaz.

“Well, _I’m_ going to try and work more on these passwords and keep tabs on police work. I don’t know what you’re gonna do; that’s for Marcus to tell you.” Louis had his arms crossed tightly around his chest, swaying back and forth looking in between his monitors. 

“I want to help in every way I can.” Liam stated.

“I know you do,” Louis looked at Liam. “There’s just…not much for you to do besides keep watch on Kilam and make sure he stays low for a little bit.”

Liam sighed out and nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” He huffed out a half forced laugh.

“You’re just scared how Nyaz’s going to react.”

Liam looked away from Louis and quickly stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets like he was hiding something. “I mean…Yeah, it’s his problem.” Louis didn't answer after that and Liam took the opportunity to call up the apartment number. 

_Ring_

_Ring_

_Ring_

_Ring_

_Ring_

_Hello, you reached James Hampton. Unfortunately, I’m not able to take your c—_

Liam hung up and slipped his phone back in his pocket. Louis was back at the monitors, head looking from one screen to the next. 

Minutes of silence passed before Ricky walked through the door again, thumb pointing behind him. “My boys are packing up now. You need a ride?” Liam nodded and Ricky cocked his head. “Alright, let’s head on over then. See you, Lewis.”

“Later, Richard.” Louis replied without hesitation.

“Thank you, Louis.” Liam said simply and Louis looked at him from the reflection of his temporarily black screen.

“All part of my job, Payne.”

 

“So, how’d you get in this business?” Liam asked curiously. It was weird asking questions like this, like getting rid of murder evidence was a normal, everyday job.  They were in a moving truck now, He and Ricky sitting up front, the coworkers in the box behind them. 

“My family is a mafia clan,” Ricky replied casually. “I was faced with a lot of murder and drama no matter what. When I was younger I had this disorder where _everything_ had to be clean all the time. I would clean the house all day until I was satisfied; my family didn’t even bother hiring maids because they had me. They took advantage of my disorder and had me clean up murder scenes if things got too messy for comfort. As I got older though it started to not be as…intense? I don’t know but I’m not cleaning floors till my knees bleed like I used to. When I got older I moved out to Utopia and started the business.”

“Why make it into a business?”

“To everyday citizens, Utopia is a beautiful, clean, friendly city. There is so much violence and murder that is kept away from the public, and if you have the right connections you can get your name out there to the murderous side of Utopia. It’s not exactly ideal to hang up flyers saying you’re in the murder cleanup business.”

“Did you get your name out there through your family?”

“Yeah. I started off as a storage and moving business, but my family spread my name around and it got me clients.”

“They seem pretty supportive.” Liam commented and Ricky scoffed.

“Please. The only reason they gave me a little boost is because I let them get a share of my profits. I haven’t been on the best terms with them since I left.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I left,” Ricky shrugged. “It’s against tradition to just _leave_ the family house. I didn’t go far anyway, Nandon is only a few days drive from here.”

Ricky glanced at Liam quickly and continued, “Where are you from?”

“Oh, uh, I’m from Heartland—the Thieve’s Town part.”

“Ooh, Thieves Town…Were you in the Clan?”

Liam blushed and looked even harder out the window. “Yeah.”

“Damn! Payne Train is not only an underground fighter but an ex thief. And from the Clan, too. You must’ve been pretty good.”

“I guess.” Liam was never excited to talk about his past life, especially the Clan. 

“So, you’re letting Kilam stay at your place?” Ricky asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve worked with him a few times before.”

Liam snapped his eyes from the window to Ricky. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Ricky laughed. “Like, two, three years ago.”

“How?” Liam pressed.

“He used to work for this elite assassin business-thing. Kinda like the Clan but with murder instead of robbery. They’re called the Blades and Nyaz was in charge of the Utopia contracts.”

_Oh, right._ Nyaz literally murdered as a job and that’s why he was so wary of the video spreading. “Why’d he leave?” Ricky only shrugged. “Did you guys talk a lot?”

“No. Not at all,” Ricky chuckled. “I met him once as an orientation and to share contact information. Very quiet, really intimidating. He’d message me after a job was done with the address and I’d go and clean it up.”

“He’ll probably remember you then,” Liam half smiled.

“Yeah, I’d hope so. I’m the reason he’s not in jail rotting right now.”

“What, is he a messy killer or something?”

Ricky thought for a moment before replying. “It really just depended. One night it would be a body and a couple of finger prints and then others it would be lose limbs and blood everywhere.”

Liam furrowed his brows. _Is Nyaz the type to take his feelings out on other people?_ “Do you know why he was more violent on some nights than others?”

“Nah…Like I said, this is a don’t ask don’t tell job. I’m just here to do my thing.”

“Do you still work for the Blades?”

“Oh yeah. Every month or two I get like a weeks full of jobs from whoever’s working the city.” 

“It’s this building here.” Liam pointed to the apartment complex and Ricky found a convenient spot nearby. Liam looked around at the busy sidewalks. _Whatever happened to the people Nyaz dealt with last night?_ He still doesn’t know what Nyaz did to the ambushers, but judging by the lack of cops or any evidence made it seem like he just scared him off. That was just too unlikely though. 

Liam didn’t question it any further, however. _One problem at a time._ He led Ricky and three of his men to his apartment; he carefully kept the door as close to closed as possible. 

“Hm,” Ricky surveyed the room. It was just how Liam left it, except smellier. The air freshener lost itself in the air at this point. Ricky turned to two of his coworkers. “Get two couch boxes and then the cleaning supplies.” They left and Ricky turned back to Liam as the last one left in the room went to look at the bloodstains and damaged wall.

“This’ll be an easy cleanup. I need you two to leave as soon as possible; some of the washing chemicals we use can be toxic. You should be able to come back a couple hours after your meeting with Marcus.”

Liam nodded. “How much do I owe you?”

“I’ll have Louis send you a memo when we’re done. That good?”

“Just fine.” Liam raised his hand and smiled. “Thank you, this clearly helps a lot.” They shook hands and Liam excused himself to Nyaz’s room.

 

***

 

Zayn was staring down at his targets, hood pulled up with a mask covering the bottom half of his face. _Kill targets and any witnesses._ That was the instructions. The targets, a husband and wife, were talking to what Zayn assumed to be a business partner. They were standing in front of their cars, body guards surrounding all three of them. _Sunglasses at night._

He dropped down from the balcony he was at, hands in pockets as usual. The land was silent and unnoticeable and Zayn warped forwards to the middle of the street. His walking was noticed, and a bodyguard immediately pulled out a gun and took a shot at Zayn.

Zayn warped forward again, easily dodging the bullet; all five of the guards were taking shots and the three business men and women were ushered into their cars in clumsy and scared manners. He ran to the nearest bodyguard, ducking under another shot and punching him straight in the throat. He moved onto the next guard, flipping his Coin up while doing so. Just as the board was formed, it caught the bullet aiming for Zayn’s head. 

Zayn grabbed the edges and cracked  it against the guard’s head to which she fell dead with an unfixable dent. Not wasting anymore time, he grabbed her gun and shot down the last three with quick succession, as well as one of each tires of the cars that were able to drive off. 

He reached for the front door of the nearest, pulling lazily at the locked door. He sighed out and slammed the butt of the gun against the window where it shattered all of the driver. He could hear the wife scream in fear and Zayn grabbed the driver’s neck and slammed his head against the steering wheel. The airbag shot out from the force, not like it would really help and reached for the side buttons to unlock the other doors. 

Before he could finish the first half of his job, he heard running footsteps and saw the business partner start to run off. Zayn sighed again, rubbing his forehead with the gun still in his hand. _Always hated it when they run._ Zayn warped, and the witness fell into him just as fast as he could run. 

“No…No, no, no, no! _Please!_ I won’t say a word to _anyone!_ Let me _live!_ Pl—” Gunshot. The man fell on the sidewalk, blood dripping out from the wound in his head. Zayn calmly walked back to the car, where he could hear both his targets crying with fear. He didn’t really want to go through this guilt trip of killing crying people. _Job’s a job._

Zayn opened the passenger door to see the wife and husband cowering in the far corner of their seats. It was like limo interior: wine bottles and glasses next to a small plasma TV and some candies with plush carpet and dim lighting. 

“Why? Why are you _doing this?!_ ” The wife screamed out, her husband holding her tightly like he was scared she would try and attack Zayn. 

“Because it’s my job.” Zayn answered boringly. He raised the gun to the wife’s head. “Fraiser says hi.” _Bang, bang._

 

***

 

“Nyaz…Nyaz…N…Hey…Wake up, dude. Can you hear me?” Zayn groaned into his pillow and shifted himself away from the faint calling in his ear. “Come on, Nyaz. We have to go. Wake…” It was Liam. _What did he say? We have to go?_ Zayn only snuggled himself more around the pillow, blocking out the noise of Liam and heavy footsteps in the living room. 

Zayn jumped up when the back of his shoulder was met with a hard fist, the area of contact burning with pain. “Liam, what the _fuck?_ ” Zayn yelled out, eyes still closed with an arm wrapped around to his back. 

“I’m sorry, but you need to get dressed. We’re leaving.”

Zayn rubbed his eye and slowly opened them, the dim lighting in his room sensitive to his eyes. “Why?” He half whispered. His voice felt so dry and raspy. _How long have I slept?_

“We have a meeting with Marcus.”

“Why?” Zayn asked again, squinting at Liam who was nervously fumbling with his hands.

“Because, uh,” Liam gripped the back of his neck and swayed up and down on his heels.

“Because…”

“We’ve been caught.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter seemed really boring so i'm sorry if that was the case but there are some pretty exciting stuff coming up and eheheheveeveeeee im ready


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited

It took Zayn a couple minutes to settle in, rubbing his eyes and stretching out, while Liam was standing tensely in front of him; Zayn noticed that Liam was barely breathing, barely even moving. 

“So,” Zayn grunted as he stretched his shoulder out. “What were you saying before you rudely interrupted my sleep?”

Liam opened his mouth, hesitated, then just ripped off the bandaid. “We’ve been caught.”

Zayn stopped stretching, arms flopped into his lap now and lips pursed. “We’ve been caught.” He repeated slowly, not entirely sure what he meant. 

“Yes, just,” Liam sighed out and looked behind his shoulder hurriedly. “Get dressed. We have to go to Marcus. I’ll explain on the way.”

Other voices travelled into the bedroom, furniture moving and objects being dropped. Zayn narrowed his eyes at the noise and turned to Liam, “Who’s that?”

“Cleaning guys.” Liam answered shortly. “You know, since you left my apartment in shambles.”

“Yeah, cause I was protecting you,” Zayn immediately got defensive, his hands gripped onto the blanket and eyes staring into Liam’s intimidatingly. Liam stared back calmly, not as tense as he was a few minutes ago. Zayn sighed and relaxed. He was just tired. “Sorry, I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s midday.”

“I’m not a _waking up_ person, then.” Zayn snapped back sharply. “Fuck, Liam that punch hurt.” He reached behind to the shoulder he punched. He could only imagine how bad that punch would hurt if Liam and him were in the ring again, hurting intentionally rather than accidentally. 

“I’m sorry,” Liam extended his arm to his torso. “Are you okay? I have some painkillers in the bathroom.” His voice was strung and tense, like he was insanely stressed. Zayn wanted to be stressed too.

“No, I’d like you to tell me what’s going on.”

“Not here, okay? Just. Please.” Liam didn’t even give Zayn a chance to argue when he rushed out of the room to talk to whatever noise was happening in the living room. 

Zayn sighed out, shoulders slumped and hands cracking in his lap. He knew what Liam was talking about, but obviously getting caught was an over exaggeration. His instincts told him he was safe, and that’s the one thing he trusts above all. _Always trust your instincts._

His jeans felt tight and uncomfortable on his legs and his bloody shirt was missing, hopefully in the wash. He still felt so exhausted, but the few hours of sleep was enough to give him back some energy. Enough energy to fight. All that matters. 

Zayn lazily shifted his legs out from the comforter and onto the cold floor. His socks were gone too, which was an issues because Zayn _needed_ socks. Obviously everyone needs them but Zayn couldn’t function without wearing them 24/7. Luckily he was able to fish them out from the bed, and then fishing out a shirt from his backpack. It was just another plain white tee which was quickly covered with the black hoodie. 

“ _Liam?_ ” Zayn called out, a slight whine in his voice. “Do I have time to brush my teeth?”

“No,” Liam immediately answered, his head sticking out in the doorway. “Here’s a piece of gum.” The foiled lifesaver was caught and Liam disappeared again. 

Zayn angrily shoved the Icy Mint stick into his mouth, angrily chewing as he angrily zipped up his backpack and angrily put it over his shoulder while angrily checking his phone and seeing if his Coin was in his pocket, which is angrily was. Like Zayn needed socks, Zayn needed brushed teeth. However, Liam was already unnecessarily stressed enough and he didn’t really want to push the envelope with him. He was still recovering from that punch. 

“Liam, I’m ready, you can stop freaking out now.” Zayn didn’t even try to yell, his voice was still dry and coarse. “Wh—oh, there you are.” He was waiting out in the hall, his foot impatiently tapping and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Loosen up, will ya?” Zayn stepped over some set cleaning products, body bags, and paint cans. “Is Ricky cleaning?”

“Yes, and as much as we’d all like to hang out and chat, we have to go and he has to clean.” Liam answered quickly. 

“Oh,” Zayn pursed his lips and rubbed his eye. “Fine. No need to get snappy.”

“I’m not—” Liam flexed his jaw as they sped walked down the hall to the stairs. “Do you not realize the situation we’re in right now?”

“No, Liam, I don’t.” Zayn narrowed his eyes. “Because you won’t _tell me anything._ ”

“What part of ‘we’re caught’ do you not understand? Cause I think it’s pretty obvious!” Liam was almost yelling now, and fake laughing. The sarcastic laugh or impatient laugh someone has when they’re frustrated. 

Liam was ahead of Zayn on the stairs taking two at a time while Zayn was struggling to keep up. “Liam, Li relax. We aren’t caught.”

“Ny you’re in a fucking _police report.”_ Liam turned to Zayn and spoke through gritted teeth. “The _police are onto you.”_ Zayn dropped down so he was only a step above Liam.

“Oh, darn!” Zayn sighed dramatically. “What will I do now? The Utopian police are on my case! I’m doomed!” Liam in return was staring at Zayn with an open mouth like he wanted to say something but just physically couldn’t. 

“This is literally what you’ve been trying to avoid.” Liam finally said, his voice low and strained. 

Zayn sighed and patted Liam’s cheek, “Liam, my home-giver, having the police on my ass is annoying, yes, but it’s not the end of the world. I’ll keep you safe and I’ll stay low. This is routine.”

“What’s with this sudden attitude change?” Liam raised a brow.

“I’ll be back to normal in an hour. I just woke up.” Zayn blew a bubble. “Trust me Payno, if we were caught by the wrong people I would not be acting like this.” He walked past him now, opening the door to the lobby.

“The wrong people?” Liam questioned as they walked through the lobby. Zayn snapped his gum and pushed up the front door.

“Yeah as in: the People I Don’t Want to Get Caught By.”

“Who are those people?”

“Uhh…” Zayn knitted his brows, gaze taking interest to the pavement. _The government, the Nine, anyone who wants to make billions…_ ”The bigger power,” Zayn decided. He refused to tell Liam anything; he was leaving soon and he didn’t want Liam killed because he just knew. 

“The bigger power, huh?” Liam pressed a little closer to Zayn as someone walked by. “Who are you?”

Zayn laughed at that. “I wish I could give you a straight answer.”

“Why don’t you?” Liam challenged.

“Because I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Me? Getting hurt?” Liam laughed and jokingly flexed his arms. “I’m as tough as nails. Tougher than nails. That’s how I beat the Hammer.”

“Shut up,” Zayn shook his head but was grinning anyway. But that grin faded fast as he thought of last night. He remembered saying Liam’s death was more than just because of the fight.

“Liam,” Zayn started seriously. “What do you know about the Hammer?”

Liam hesitated. “Well, I dunno. He’s been fighting at the Clam way before me and was a champ for a few years.

“You know something, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Zayn’s voice lowered as more and more people started to walk by. “One of the blokes I fought said this was all more than just a lost fight.”

“I…” Liam combed his hand through his hair, eyes lost on the pavement. “I can’t say here. Like seriously, if I tell you we need to be locked up in, like, a steel box.”

“That serious?”

“Yes.” Liam answered immediately. “It’s…dangerously serious. I really don’t understand how I’m alive at this point because of it.”

Zayn tensed up, getting defensive and protective. “You know you’re safe, right?”

“Yes.”

“Just know you’re safe.” What does Liam know that is so dangerous? Maybe the Hammer was a drug lord, or some pimp, or a serial killer. There was a possibility he was all those things.

The walk the rest of the way was silent, Liam’s eyes still on the ground and Zayn’s tense glances between him and the rest of the city. This wasn’t some reassuring silence, this was just a tense and stressed silence. Zayn felt like he struck a sensitive cord, but in the end Zayn needed to know what Liam did. 

The sign on the Clam’s front door said closed but Liam and Zayn walked in anyway. The bartender looked up at them for only a quick second before looking back down. 

The arena was empty, the only sound was the muffled talking from Marcus’ lobby and office. I don’t think Zayn’s ever seen this arena empty; no matter what day of the week, whatever hour someone was always fighting someone. The waiting room itself was packed with all the fighters, all ranging from the lower classes to the top dogs like Liam. Zayn and Liam settled in the corner of the room by a plastic plant. 

After about ten minutes of Zayn taking too much interest in a fake plant, one of the bodyguards told the room to settle and Marcus emerged from his office, hands behind his back and a casual grin set on his face.

“Ladies, gentlemen, settle, please. This is vital information we all need to pay attention to. Save your questions for later.” Marcus cleared his throat and fold his ringed hands over his stomach. “We seem to have a dilemma: the police are on our case again.” The room echoed with annoyed groans and huffs. Zayn even saw Liam’s subtle eye roll. Everyone hates the police. “I know, I know,” Marcus continued loudly over the noise. “It’s a fucking pain in the ass. Hate it. Hate them. So this means we have to relocate and reschedule. Our new arenas will be in the Southside—you know, with all those incomplete apartment complexes and buildings and shit. Since the construction was defunded, the whole place has been fenced up until further notice, so we have free range on the area.

“Anyone who _isn’t—is not—_ fighting in the tournament, your fights are cancelled until further notice.” There were some shouts of protests which fueled up across the room comments. “Hey! Shut up! Alright, look, we don’t even have any arenas actually set up; all we have are just empty buildings and incomplete construction. Right now, I just want to get through this tournament as quickly and quietly as possible. Hopefully by the time the final is over, the cops will be off our case and we can come back here. On that note, the Final Four fights will be pushed back another week just so we have plenty of time to do our own construction and give out long enough notice to our clientele. Final Four fighters your schedules are the same time and opponent. 

“I do _not_ want any of you coming down here until I say it’s okay. After this meeting the only people that are allowed down here are me and anyone permitted. If you try sneaking in, you _will_ face the consequences. I know we all like to throw some money or train but I’m not risking that with suspicion swimming around. Are we clear? Did I cover everything?” Everyone muttered their own replies. “For some of you guys, you’ve been through this and know the ropes. For first timers: get used to this. It happens every once in a while and the rules aren’t hard to follow. On your way out, Joey’s got the scheduling and directions. If someone doesn’t get their paper and they don’t know what’s happening, that’s on you. Don’t expect a paycheck or reschedule if you miss a fight. Any questions?”

A few moments of silence passed and Marcus clapped his hand. “Great! If one of our fighters didn’t show up make sure to pass this information down to them.” With that everyone filed out of the room, tense looks shared between all the fighters of the room. Liam and Zayn were still crammed next to the fake plant by the time the majority were out of the room. 

“Finally,” Liam muttered. “I was getting sweaty.”

“Yeah, I know.” Zayn joked and Liam swatted at his arm. 

“You two—” Marcus interrupted them. “My office. Now.”

Zayn huffed. He just wanted to know Liam’s secret already. But this private meeting was expected—he’s the reason everyone’s in this relocation mess. 

The door clicked shut behind them and Liam and Zayn slowly sunk into the chairs facing Marcus in his leather one. 

“I knew this would happen soon enough,” Marcus sighed out, hands crossed on his desk and shaded eyes looking between Liam and Zayn. “Tomlinson is a wizard at what he does, but he’s no superhuman. I expected the footage was going to leak to the police eventually. My highest concerns, however, is for who or whatever is blocking Louis out from deleting any data related to the footage. Do either of you have any idea who could be doing this? I’ll take anything.”

Zayn wanted to just blame the Nine, but the chance that it’s them was slim. They wouldn’t just come out of the woodwork unless there was a bounty placed on his head. And not Nyaz’s head, but Zayn’s head. 

Zayn saw Liam shake his head from the corner of his eye. “Nyaz?”

Zayn shook his head as well. Better to keep quiet, at least until Liam was out of the room. Marcus sighed, uncrossing his hands and placing them on the arm rests. “Kilam, I’d like to speak with you individually. Then Payne. Liam, if you don’t mind—” Liam nodded and got up from his seat, the door swishing through the air before closing once again.

“You know it could be the Men of the Council, right?” Marcus asked a few seconds after the door closed. 

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you speak up?”

“Because Liam knows nothing of who I am,” Zayn explained. “I refuse to let him in on who I am because he could be killed for it.”

“I know who you are and I’m still breathing.” 

“Are you suggesting I tell Liam the truth?” Zayn raised a brow. 

Marcus pursed his lips as he studied the rings on his fingers. “Liam is not an innocent kid, Malik. He’s been exposed to a life of death and secrecy and danger. I’m not saying you should tell him everything, but he’s allowed to know _some_ things. Not saying you should just straight out tell him you’re a Malik, but he should know that he’s playing with very dangerous fire—fire that have taken notice by the Council.”

“Phillip DeMauge,” Zayn blurted out. “Shit, he’s a Councilmen. What if—”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that rat bastard is dead, but if he isn’t I advise you finish the job. He’s the reason you’re here in the first place.”

“Fuck, he’s a Man of the Council, though.” Zayn didn’t want to attract even more unwanted attention, especially _countrywide_ attention. The unnatural death of a Councilman would be investigated and talked about for months, years even. 

“Not like you haven’t killed government leaders before,” Marcus rolled his eyes and brushed his hand off in the air. “No one cares for DeMauge anyway.” 

“What if it is the Council who blocked the videos?” Zayn asked. “I mean, do I kill them…?”

“Well, they’ll put a worldwide bounty on you, which will lead to the Nine coming after you.”

“They’ll figure out who I am, though.”

“That won’t stop them. You may be a Malik but to the eyes of many you’re a threat to society. There’s not a single doubt in my mind that the Council would vote to shove you back into war and win their battles. Or lock you back up in some lab.”

“And what if it isn’t?”

“Then you have some dangerous enemies out there who might have a good idea who you are. I don’t think you realize that there are so many people who think you’re alive and want you dead. To this very _day,_ Rulowe still searches for you just so you can come back and be who you were made to be.”

_I wasn’t made to be like this._ “I know that. I try to avoid Rulowe as much as possible because there’s no way I could walk the streets without someone figuring out who I am. I just want to get my business down as quickly as possible.”

“What is your business?”

Zayn hesitated. How is that he trusts Marcus, some illegal arena runner, over Liam? “Find the people who plotted my parents’ murder and get revenge on them and the Nine.”

"You've been searching for answers everywhere expect the place your family was murdered?"

"Trust me, I've searched Rulowe top to bottom. That's why I'm here. There are answers in other cities."

“That’s some tough business.”

“I’ve been searching since I was fourteen.”

“You’re close. I can feel it.”

“I’d like to think that considering it’s been seven years now.” Zayn chuckled unhumorously. 

Marcus stared at Zayn quietly, Zayn staring back.

“Point is, you need to trust Liam. He’s not who you think he is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Marcus tapped his fingers against the desk before leaning in, voice quiet. “Liam can be a very, very dangerous person. He knows things. He’s seen things. He’s not someone you want to be an enemy with, especially with a punch like his. If you want him on your side, keep him on your side.” 

Zayn looked back at the door as if Liam was just standing there. _I need to let him in._

“When you kill DeMauge let me know,” Marcus broke the silence. “I need to get rid of all strings I attached to him. Last thing I need is getting caught up in deep government shit. Yuck.” Marcus waved his hand off. “Get Liam, we’re done here.”

 


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra long chapter as celebration of zayn's fader interview
> 
> also new user (was zaynsfeminist)

Zayn scanned through his phone, looking through the building plan of where DeMauge’s penthouse was. It was at the very top of the company building he owned, DeMauge Corporations, from levels 95-100. Zayn was there only just about a week ago, however the possibility of reinforced guards was high, so getting in would be harder than before. He needed to get the job done tonight; DeMauge was the only tie between Zayn and the Clam. Although he threatened the life out of the Councilman if he spoke once about their encounter, Zayn knew DeMauge would spill the minute money was involved, and police here tended to bribe the truth out of people. 

Zayn curses himself for not killing him the one night, the only reason he kept alive was if he had more information. His annoyance with himself was quickly diminished though, he shouldn’t worry about his mistakes. He needed to focus now. He glanced at the door to Marcus’ office, wondering how much longer Liam would be in there. _Liam._ Zayn thought back to what Marcus said, saying that Liam was more dangerous than he looks. He bent down to his backpack, pushing past the gun and extra pair of pants and notebook to see his and Harry’s masks wrinkled at the bottom. The skeletal grin of Zayn’s was overlapped by Harry’s yellow mask with the basic smiley grin on it. It was a farewell present, and Zayn kept it under preservation for a few years now along with the own mask he wears every once in a while. He would’ve left the two still smushed to the bottom of the bag, but because this job was too big to not coverup, the masks were pulled out from their forgotten position to the top. They would need them tonight.

There was only one gun, Liam would have to take it—if he knew how to use it at least. Zayn always worked best with his hands, the gun was only for threats, emergencies or quick kills. Zayn knew he could handle himself in a fight, but not how Liam would do; he would take the gun and use it when he felt unsafe or when Zayn wasn't near to help. He unzipped the smaller pocket in the bag, pushing past his wallet and pack of smokes. The keycard to the elevator was there, Zayn only hoped it was still valid when they got to the building. By now it was close to six o’clock, and DeMauge’s public floors would close in a couple hours.

Moments later the door opened, Liam walking out with Marcus behind him. Zayn took in what Liam was wearing, all black with a plain leather jacket. _Good._ Although there wasn’t an official dress code when it came to hits, it was better to wear simple unnoticeable outfits and blend with the surroundings than to stand out. “Hackle him enough?” Zayn asked sarcastically and Marcus only grinned while Liam shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. 

“We’re done here. Liam, I’ll see you in a week. Be ready to fight. Nyaz, get the job done.” Marcus looked from Liam to Zayn slowly, taking in both their expressions. Liam only looked blankly at Zayn. He zipped up his bag and stood up, throwing it over his shoulder quickly. Zayn cocked his head towards the door and both of them walked out quietly.

Liam folded the flyer Joey—the bartender—handed out into his jean pocket and returned his hands back in the jacket. “You got a job?” He asked Zayn, subjecting to what Marcus said a few minutes ago. 

“ _We_ have a job,” Zayn corrected. “A very, very dangerous and life threatening job.” He purposely gave a blunt response to see Liam’s reaction. Surprisingly, it was a curious scrunch of the eyebrows and even a gleam of excitement in his eyes. 

“What do we have to do?”

“We have to kill someone.” Zayn answered and thought about how long the journey was from the business district to this part of town. About thirty minutes, he thinks. It would take longer by car judging by the busy road besides them. It was rush hour, and even though DeMauge worked from home, he was still a businessman and he tended to move around a lot from city to city for council or business work. Zayn didn’t know how big the window of opportunity was, but it was best to clean up the mess tonight. 

“Who’s the someone?” Liam questioned further.

“Do you love your government? Have any connections with them?” Zayn asked instead even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. 

“Can’t trust ‘em,” Liam shrugged with a small smirk. “Who is it? Someone from the top dogs? Is it Phillip De…De-something? I know he lives here.”

Zayn’s eyebrow quirked up, looking at Liam impressed. He was taking it well, completely unfazed, and even knew some information. “DeMauge. And yes. Marcus wants this job done now so we have to move fast, you know?”

“I know, but wouldn’t you rather do this later at night? That part of town will be extremely busy, and it’s not usually end of the day for the people in DeMauge Corp.” Liam pointed out.

“The company is open to the public until eight, since there’s the bank floor and whatever, so to most we’re just average people.” Zayn blew a bubble with the gum he was still chewing. It lost it’s mint flavor the most part, but it was healthier than smoking. And Zayn still hasn’t gotten a chance to brush his teeth. 

“Loads of cameras, though. Plus, the floors not public to people are locked off unless you have a company keycard.” Liam countered.

Zayn’s brow rose higher, staring at Liam fully fledged. “And how would _you_ know that?”

Liam glanced at Zayn, cheeks getting pink. “Uh, I’ve had to do some work in the place.” He answered vaguely, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Work?” Zayn pressed, actually curious on _who_ Liam was. As far as he was concerned, underground fighters didn’t usually break in to corporate buildings owned by the highest power of government. 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t a fighter my entire life.” Liam muttered. He was dodging the question, and usually Zayn would drop it there, leaving subjects mysteries like he usually did. But not this time.

“Clearly. What’d you used to do?”

Liam didn’t look…uncomfortable with the question, more just embarrassed. Or nervous with what’d he say. He sighed out, “You know the Clan right?” 

The Clan…the Clan. Zayn racked his brain for any sort of memory of them. “The Cl—oh shit,” Zayn suddenly realized. He never worked with them directly, but his time as a paid hitman had involved them in some jobs and exchanges. “ _You_ were a thief?” He looked down at Liam’s feet, channeling his focus to the faint steps of Liam’s footsteps despite the clunky boots he was wearing. It was almost perfectly quiet. 

“Yeah,” Liam confirmed. “Basically all my life. I grew up in Thieves Town.”

“Thieves Town?”

“It’s in Heartland. Like, the shitty part of it.” Liam coughed out a laugh. “I really did it to help my family, but it eventually turned to a full blown job. A very elite one, if I have to brag.” Liam jokingly puffed out his chest, a prideful smirk etched on his lips. 

“Thief to fighter, hm?” Zayn pursed his lips. “Interesting.” He knew the Clan didn’t kill anyone on jobs, only in extreme self defense when they didn’t have an opening to knock them out quietly and cleanly. He wondered if Liam ever killed anyone and with that he asked, “Have you used a gun before?” 

“Yes, but not much. Most of my jobs were undetected.” Liam didn’t sound like he was bragging, just simply stating the truth. Maybe this job would be easier than Zayn thought; Liam was trained in stealth, clearly since only the best could be in the Clan. Perhaps the only death out of tonight would be Phillip’s. 

“I…” Zayn hesitated as a group of people passed by. The side of town was starting to get busier. “I have gun. Think you’ll need it?”

Liam chewed on his lip, shade of pink getting darker each second. Not like Zayn was looking, really. “I think I’ll be good. You got my back, right?” Liam looked at him, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Of course, I mean that's what friends do. I’m, uh, your friend…right?” Zayn couldn’t help but ask for confirmation. Zayn couldn’t even bring himself to call Liam _his_ friend—that can’t be very friendly of him. 

Instead, Liam broke out in a fit of laughter, one hand come out of his pocket to cove his mouth. Zayn stared at him stupidly; did he say something funny? 

“Oh, Nyaz…” Liam sighed out, smile still on his face. “You’re fucking weird.” He stifled out a giggle, cheeks flushed from his laughing fit. Zayn turned red, realizing how odd of a question it was. An embarrassed _whatever_ whisked under his breath and Liam wrapped his arm around Zayn’s shoulder strongly, bringing him closer to his side. “Yes, Nyaz, you’re still my friend. There’s not a reason in the world why you wouldn’t be.”

Zayn ducked down, not out of embarrassment but out of nervousness. _Even if I told you my name isn’t what you think it is and I’m not who you think I am?_ Zayn wondered if Liam would hate him if he admitted to the truth, and not because he lied but because of who he _was._ Rulowe made plenty of enemies out of war inside and outside Maceon, and even though Liam didn’t seem like it, there was chance he was patriotic about certain issues and people. Zayn’s dealt with plenty of racism since his childhood to now, and there were more than enough death threats to his family—mostly because of him. Zayn pushed the thought away, once again agreeing with himself to keep the truth hidden. 

“Do you have a jacker?” Liam suddenly asked. “I recommend it for the cameras and metal detectors unless you want to go straight to the source.” 

Zayn shook his cell phone as an answer. “All here. Usually we would come in at separate times and meet up on one floor but because we only have one card and jacker, we’ll just have to act as casual as possible.” That's what he and his partner (usually Harry) would do back in the hitman job if it needed two to get the job done.

“It’ll be a bit suspicious walking into an elevator and immediately the camera dies out,” Liam commented, voice low in Zayn’s ear as more people passed by. Chills ran up his back at the sound, but he quickly recovered.

“This debunker can start fucking with technology at a certain distance, so even before we enter the building the cameras will fuck up. Actually, these jackers don’t kill of cameras, they just reuse old footage from the past days, so security will just be looking at fake screens while we’re up there. Plus the factors of other people being around us helps and that nearby buildings will be affected as well.” Zayn wasn’t worried about this at all. The only thing he needed was an empty elevator so there weren’t any witnesses of them going to inaccessible floors. 

“You’re pretty sure about this,” Liam pointed out. “Have you done some business there before, too?

“Recently,” Zayn replied. “I got in a different way though. If I repeated myself it would only be suspicious and security would shut down the place immediately.”

“What were you doing sneaking into government property?” Liam teased quietly. 

“Had a talk with the man himself,” Zayn ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t ask why I didn’t just finish the job then. I considered him a value source for information.”

“Why consider _ed?_ ” Liam emphasized the past tense. 

“He’s trouble now. For the both of us.”

“I know he’s Marcus’ most valued business partner.” Liam commented. “Clearly he’s trouble for _all_ of us. Marcus wouldn’t ask to get rid of anyone so valuable unless it’s absolutely necessary…Why are we doing this?” Liam finally asked, and Zayn was dreading the question. Zayn weighed out the options: he could be upfront with Liam and say that he was looking for answers and that Phillip pointed him to Marcus. But that would lead to more questions. But Zayn was also tired of lying to Liam. But being vague was his specialty in the end—

“He’s the most recent tie between me and the Clam, and with the police snooping around there’s a chance he’ll come clean. With a price at least.”

“Loose ends,” Liam summarized and looked down at the ground.

“Loose ends.” Zayn repeated and the walk the rest of the way was silent.

 

***

 

Liam pulled at the end of his glove, the tight leather fitted against his fingers. His slipped on the earpiece, turning it on and giving a “Payne connected,” to the team on the other side. Danielle was across from him, tying her hair up and checking the time on her watch. “We should hurry,” She warned and Liam looked over at Hutch who gave her a short nod.

“Hutch here, are we in the clear?” His voice was grainy in the earpiece, the underground location they were in made everything more staticky. 

“Yeah, start heading over. Team’s working on the last of the detectors.” M.O. ordered and immediately Liam and his two partners exited out of the truck into the underground car lot. They were straight across DeMauge Corporations, the elite employee parking lot was underneath the adjacent building. It was late at night, their truck along with a few other cars were the only vehicles in the space, the unsettling quietness of their subtle footsteps and muffled city night above made everything so much more empty. Times like these Liam considered himself to be a ghost, like his entire life he was just some illusion to the real world. Across the lot the three of them glided through the sliding doors and into the tram station. The lights of the tunnel were off, but the open and ready tram was there waiting under M.O.’s control. 

Liam gripped onto the pole while Danielle and Hutch leaned against the closed doors, ignoring the warning about doing exactly that. It was still quiet, everyone’s eyes plastered at different views. It wasn’t an awkward quiet, in their more lax jobs they’d usually make small conversation while they worked, even M.O. and whoever else was monitoring the job would step in and make side commentary. Tonight was different, however, the job being way more risky than a backdoor trade or unlocking a safe.Everyone had to stay focused—one fuck up could lead to inescapable consequences. Liam looked at his partners: Danielle was fiddling with her watch, a look of seriousness yet boredom etched on her features. Hutch was staring at the other door across from him, arms crossed tightly and jaw tense. Liam looked out the window after noticing the tram slowing down. The tunnel lights were still off, but with sharp eyes he could see the platform come into view. He tightened his grip when the ride jolted to a stop and the doors opened onto the other side. 

“Alright, guys, remember: no fucking about. We don’t have all night but the top five levels hold the information we need. Danielle you’re taking 95 and 96. Liam you have 97 and 98, and Hutch you have floors 99 and 100. DeMauge may be out of town for business but don’t let your guard down. He’s got eyes on everything, and I only have so much control over the cameras before an alarm gets raised. There are about ten to fifteen guards on each floor, and not many places to hide any evidence so avoid as much as you can.” M.O. explained as they travelled up the elevator to the 95th floor, they were on the 23rd now. The underground employee elevator accessed all floors, even the floors that would only be accessed with special lifts. They were still encompassed in the darkness, and as much as Liam dreaded cheap fluorescent elevator lights (they always gave him a headache) he would rather see under low glow than nothing. The ride up was swift, reaching the sixties in a matter of seconds. 

“Check in with me when you’re done with your floor. A bit late to ask now, but everyone has everything right?” Liam patted over his pants, feeling the flash drive in one pocket, and lock pick and keycard in the other. 

“Yep,” Liam confirmed, breaking the silence inside the elevator. Danielle and Hutch grunted their responses. Floor ninety. 

“Great. No room for failure, the client is big and pay is bigger. L.J., G.G., and I got your backs.” The elevator came to a stop at 95. “Danielle I’m splitting you with G.G. Good luck.” The doors slid open to the elevator lobby, and Danielle gave the men a nod goodbye, not even waiting for the doors to close again as she stalked off down the sheen white hallway. 

“Good luck, kid.” Hutch murmured and the elevator came to a stop again at Liam’s destination. 

“You too, gramps.” Liam smirked and stepped off into the similarly designed elevator lobby. Liam took a deep breath, calming his nerves as best as he could. He heard the doors slide close and the faint murmurs of security chatter. He was in the safe zone now, the elevators supposedly were on lockdown so there was no point in keeping an eye on them. If things get messy he can always hide back here, not there was much to hide in besides a table with a fake plant.

“L.J. here. You ready?” His voice was clear in Liam’s ear. Another inhale. Another exhale.

“I’m ready.”

 

***

 

It was dark out by the time they got to the bustling part of town, the closing autumn nights seeping closer to winter. Zayn and Liam bodied past the never ending crowd, Zayn taking notice to people losing their calls and people complaining about the reception. The jacker was doing its job and he was trusting it reached the full height of their destination by the time they were at the front doors. 

“You don’t happen to have any gloves on you?” Zayn asked. He didn’t have a pair, and he ideally wanted to leave the smallest trace possible. 

Liam shook his head. “Fingerprints or cold?” He elbowed at Zayn’s arms that were pressed tightly against his side with his hands gripped tightly in the front pocket. 

_Both._ “Prints.”

“I’ll let you press the buttons and open the doors then since you have longer sleeves.” Liam trailed his eyes up from his arms to Zayn’s face before turning back to look at the looming towers, blindly shimming past people as they walked by. Zayn’s gaze travelled to Liam’s face, the city lights waving over his skin in pale blues and whites and yellows. Liam almost looked like a painting then, every movement felt like a still life in Zayn’s eyes. It was kind of beautiful. Zayn snapped his head back, forgetting everything he thought in a split second. 

“Follow my lead and stay close,” He ordered loud enough for only Liam to hear and soon enough they walked into the porcelain lobby of DeMauge Corporations. The lobby was loud with visitors walking to and from the elevators, sitting in the leather chairs, talking to receptionists, coworkers planning about getting drinks for the night. He was invisible to everyone, no one taking any notice to the two males all dressed in black as they quietly headed towards the elevators, rows of ten on one side of the wall and another on the adjacent. He jumped back when a flock of men and women in office wear rushed out of one elevator right in front of him. Zayn glanced behind his shoulder to see Liam right over him, keeping close like he was supposed to. 

The two of them weaved between the crowd of businessmen and closed the elevator before anyone else can join them. 

With a finger covered in his hoodie sleeve he pressed the 95th floor, the last button on the very top of the choices. Any floors above had to be accessed by special elevators located in such levels. Last time Zayn came here he took some underground elevator only elite employees could use; it was against his own code to use the same entrance twice, just to avoid expected run-ins or enforced security. The 95th was DeMauge’s first floor of his home, although it was more like just another office for his most trusted employees. By now it was closed—elite coworkers had special privileges, like leaving early or not showing up unless asked to. A buzzing followed immediately and Zayn dug out the keycard from his last trip and pressed it into the corresponding slot. A screen above the card reader said Accepted and basic information of the original owner was displayed before the elevator jolted upwards. 

“How long do you think it’ll take for security to shut down the premises?” Liam asked as Zayn pocketed the keycard and went to grab the masks.

“Uh, well, this jacker doesn’t exactly shut down cameras, it more like gives the viewers illusions. It’ll replay old footage from earlier and fuck up radio reception so communication is harder to get through if it’s needed.” Zayn grabbed both the masks, letting the yellow smiley face hang loosely from his grip, “You’ll need this.”

Liam looked between the mask and Zayn, “Not very intimidating is it?”

“No, but it’s always best to hide your real strength right?” Zayn smirked as he pulled the bands around his ears. The skeleton grin fit snug over his nose and mouth, and Zayn went ahead and pulled his hoodie up, the only real visible part left were his eyes. Liam did the same, the yellow bands around his ears and he looked over at Zayn, his cheeks pushed up in a grin that was covered by the smiley’s own. 

“How do I look? Look like I can kick some ass?” Liam winked and Zayn was thankful his mouth was covered. 

“I wouldn’t approach you if I saw you on the street that’s for sure,” Zayn shrugged and faced towards the door. Floor 37. Zayn pulled his backpack back around and reached from the silence pistol. 

Liam’s eyes narrowed as Zayn held it out. “Just have it holstered at least,” Zayn pleaded. “If worse comes to worst you’ll have something 100% effective.”

“What? You don’t think I’ll be able to take of myself?” Liam asked, a small tone of offense in his voice.

“I don’t know how you do in these…situations. I’m not telling you to use it, but I’d rather you have it than me.” Zayn explained and Liam complied, pushing the gun at the back of his jeans. 

63.

“We don’t really have a plan.” Liam cleared his throat, clearly nervous.

“Yeah, we’re kinda running this blind, but just stick with me and we’ll be good.”

71.

“Why did you come here recently?”

“I told you earlier—had a talk with him.”

79.

“Why did _you_ come here a while back?”

“Had to steal some information. Client of ours was butting heads with DeMauge’s business so they wanted to get the upper hand.”

82.

“I trust you.” Zayn’s head turned to Liam, who was staring straight at the doors.

“Trust me?”

“You’re killing him for a reason. And I trust you on whatever that reason is.”

Zayn hesitated, hot breath fanning in his mask. “I—I told you: there’s ties between me and him and the Clam.”

“I don’t know the full story though, do I?” Liam raised a brow, finally looking back at Zayn. “You’ll tell me someday though.” He looked back at the door.

“How do you know?” Zayn asked, mirroring his movements. 

Liam only shrugged, the question thrown over his shoulder like nothing was asked.

85.

“Why are you still… _here?_ ” Zayn couldn’t hold back the question. Sometimes wearing a mask helped, it didn’t hold him back. “Like, you _do_ realize who you’re helping me kill right? I mean, it’s treason—almost terroristic.”

“Yeah,”

“So…”

“Even if I _didn’t_ want to help you, I couldn’t go home. They’re cleaning your mess. This gives me something to do.”

“Bullshit.”

“Come again?”

“You’re not just doing this because you would have nothing to do. I just don’t get it.”

Zayn was staring at Liam, waiting for him to continue or give him any sort of response. Liam only leaned back against the railing, eyes still forward. Slowly the elevator came to a stop, opening into the beginning of the mission.

“I just have that connection with you,” Liam shrugged and walked out, leaving Zayn in the elevator as he walked down the narrow hall to the front floor. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


End file.
